Run the Night
by PFTones3482
Summary: Voltron hasn't been seen in nearly ten years. The Galra have taken control of Altea. When Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are caught one night searching for Pidge's missing family by none other than the Princess herself, they join forces in the hopes of re-making Voltron, saving the city from the Galra underground, and putting an end to Zarkon's gang once and for all. Modern Gang AU
1. Lost Souls and Revelries

**Chapter One: Lost Souls and Revelrie**

 **Ahhhhhhh I'm finally posting this! I'm really excited for this story, it's what I was working on for NaNoWriMo. I'm not totally finished with it yet, but I'm decently far in. I'm hoping to update bi-weekly. Every single chapter title is going to be lyrics from a different song (which will end up giving us a playlist for the story in the end)**

 **I don't own Voltron.**

* * *

 _Altea Middle School, October 13_ _th_ _, 2007. Noon._

"You know, it's not nice to steal stuff."

Lance Sanchez jolted from where he had been rummaging through Lizzie Morganson's wallet, spinning to find the new kid at his heels. A lunch tray was clutched in slightly trembling hands, lime gelatin wobbling on its plate. "What?"

The new guy swallowed, like he was nervous Lance would hit him if he said it again. Which was ridiculous, seeing as the new guy was at least a head taller than Lance and like, fifty pounds heavier. "It's…not nice. I saw you take that girl's wallet."

Lance cracked a grin and lifted the faux leather, an eyebrow cocked. "This bitch?" he asked, noting the way New Guy jolted at the cuss. He pointed to the corner, where a teacher was cleaning up one of their fellow students of mashed potatoes and gravy. "She just dumped Tommy's lunch all over him because she thought it was funny. Just taking enough money to get him a new one."

Katie Holt popped out from behind Lance, a grin on her face and a marker in hand. "Say what you want, I'm drawing a mustache on her school ID."

Lance chuckled and handed it over willingly, tilting his head in New Guy's direction again. "Don't worry, man. I only take this stuff if the people deserve it. I mean, come on. No one likes a bully."

New Guy gnawed on his lip and glanced over in Lizzie's direction, where the girl was rummaging through her bag with a baffled look on her face. "Won't she notice it's gone?"

"Nah," Lance declared. "She's got like….seven twenties in here. She won't miss the five I'm taking. And if she does, oh well. She shoved Pidge down the stairs last week. She deserves it."

Katie slapped at Lance's arm, looking up from her doodles with a scowl. "I told you not to call me that. Bad enough Matt does it."

"I want to help."

They both twisted to look at New Guy, eyes wide. "What?" Lance asked yet again.

New Guy shifted from foot to foot, eyes drifting over the cafeteria, one large hand lifting to adjust the headband around his forehead. "Well if you're just doing it to the mean kids…then yeah. I'm in."

Lance's eyebrow raised up until it almost vanished into his choppy bangs. "Lance," he said slowly, gesturing to himself. "I'm in seventh. That's Pidge, but she likes to be called Katie. She's supposed to be in fifth, but she skipped a year. She's got tech skills beyond your belief, and I'm just really good at taking stuff. What exactly do you have to offer?"

The guy smirked, all nervousness suddenly gone, and Lance's lips twitched into a grin. "Hunk," he introduced, tilting his head down at his chest. "Wallet."

Lance set it into his outstretched hand without hesitation, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms over his chest as he and Katie watched Hunk cross the cafeteria. "What if he tells?" Katie asked, eyes narrowing in distrust. She blew a strand of hair off her face.

The boy next to her hummed and tilted his head, watching as Hunk edged through the crowded pathway of chairs. The wallet was clutched safely in hand under his tray, and Lance's grin grew evil as he recognized what the big guy was about to do. "Oh, he totally won't."

Just as Katie opened her mouth to protest, Hunk tripped and fell-directly into Lizzie's table, spilling his food all over her lap and sending all of her belongings to the floor. Lance, with his ever trained eyes, caught the moment Hunk dropped the wallet into the mess next to her purse.

Lizzie's screech filled the room, her irritated cries of "Pig!" and "Slob!" echoing in the cafeteria. Hunk apologized profusely, his cheeks pink but a glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn't really sorry. Save for a dollop of potato on his gloves, he was entirely clean. Lizzie wasn't.

Teachers came hurrying from every corner, and within moments Hunk was walking back to them with a jolt in his step and a dimpled smile on his face. "Told you," he said, smug.

Katie shook her head in disbelief. "What did the teachers say?"

Hunk clasped his hands in front of him and stuck his lower lip out, a puppy dog whine in the back of his throat. "Oh the poor boy," he mimicked, his voice a pitch too high. "Must have caught his foot on the chair, are you hurt sweetie?"

He broke off in a chuckle and glanced back at the disaster behind them before holding up a slip of paper. "Got free lunch for it, too. You'd be amazed what people believe when they think you're completely innocent."

Lance and Katie's jaws were hanging. "Dude," Lance said in disbelief. "Where'd you learn that stuff?"

Hunk's eyes glittered dangerously. "My moms. Always told me to play innocent in any situation that could end badly for me. Works every time. Not to mention that one of my moms is a lawyer." His voice held a challenge, like he dared them to comment on the plural mothers, but they just both grinned wider.

Lance stuck a hand out and Hunk clasped it firmly, shaking. "I like you," the shorter tween declared, a chuckle in his voice. "Where're you from, again?"

Hunk winked. "Nebraska. Gets kinda boring there, you know? Gotta make it exciting."

Lance shook his head and laughed, spinning and sinking down at the table before digging into his lunchbox and sliding over an extra sandwich. "Have a sandwich," he offered. "Save the cafeteria garbage for a desperate occasion."

Hunk took the sandwich and sank down, gloveless fingertips drumming on the table as he lifted the food. "You sure?"

"Mama always makes me extra," Lance informed him, lips curving. "She uh…she knows that I don't have conventional ways of dealing with bullies."

Katie snorted and leaned over Lance, plucking one of his grapes from within his box. "Got that right, loser."

"If I'm a loser, you're a nerd."

"Proud of it."

* * *

 _Kingsman House, October 13_ _th_ _, 2007. Evening._

The shattering sound of her mother's favorite vase was what woke Allura. For a moment, she stayed in bed, too muffled with sleep to process anything. It was when she heard her father's shout that the fourteen year old slipped from bed and crept to the door.

Her fingers drifted in the dark, finding her vanity set and then dipping behind it to pull out the baseball bat her father insisted she keep in the room.

It was the gunshot that startled her, made her recoil from the door, and then she heard her father's shouts of anger. Her fingers clamped tighter on the bat and she steeled herself, knees trembling as she shouldered her door open a crack and peered into the hallway.

The hall was bathed only in the nightlight by the bathroom door, but the stairs were lit like morning from the lamps downstairs. Sounds of a scuffle reached her ears and then more shots, louder this time, more of them than before, the sounds of thudding. The stairs shuddered and creaked and Allura backpedaled from the frame, holding the bat out in front of her and struggling not to whimper.

Her door was flung open and then her father was there, bending over and gripping her by the shoulders, eyes desperate in the moonlight. His fingers were bloody.

"Get out," he rasped. "Now, baby. Leave now."

"But wh-?"

Alfor shook his head and pressed her tight to him for a single heartbeat, his lips pressing to her scalp. He pushed something into her hands, a book, and then shoved her to the window. "Coran is waiting," he informed her. "Outside. Take the fire ladder."

Allura swallowed and shook her head, eyes welling with tears. "What about you?"

Alfor's eyes glinted. "I can't, sweetheart. You must go, before the Galra get through the security. I will try. I promise you I will try. But you must promise you will go with Coran, do as he says."

Allura shuddered and cradled the book to her chest, nodding. Her nightgown fluttered around her heels as her father ripped the blinds and window open, letting in the chill evening air. He dropped the fire ladder out the window and then held the curtain back while Allura threw the book into her school bag and shouldered it, shoving her feet into a pair of boots. "He is at the end of the lawn, in the fire pit area," he whispered as she climbed out and twisted on the rungs. "Run."

She stared at her father, fingers holding to the ladder too tightly. "I-"

"I love you, Allura."

Allura jerked, the declaration too final, and she shook her head, tears finally slipping. "No. No, no, no…Father, I can't-"

Allura's bedroom door was kicked in and Alfor spun away. The curtain fell. A gun fired.

She dropped down the ladder like a sack of bricks and sprinted, gown pulled up over her knees so she didn't trip. Shouts rang out from behind her, up behind her, angry, hostile voices, and she sobbed to think what had happened to her father to allow them to shout for her.

Bullets peppered the ground just behind her, and her shoulder suddenly stung, but she kept running, kept fleeing over the grass. Her school bag bounced up and down on her lower back, the shuffling sound distracting.

Her feet carried her over the rise and to the fire pit, past the supply shed, and suddenly hands were around her shoulders and she was screaming at the pain that flared. Coran was there, gardener's gloves missing and a hand clamped to her mouth. She could taste the dirt and sweat. His eyes were scared but firm, his usually pristine hair a tosseled mess, and he jerked his head to the gates. "My car," he whispered, his familiar accent soothing her. "Other side. 200 yards. We've got this, Princess."

She shivered at the fond name, her mother's old nickname for her, and nodded. Gathering her skirts up once again, Allura focused on the steadiness of Coran's hand on her upper back and ran.

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters, October 14_ _th_ _, 2007. Early Morning._

"You're certain they're dead?" Zarkon growled, staring down at his lieutenants. "They are the only ones between us and the hold on our city. So I will ask again. Are. You. Certain?"

The commander swallowed and ducked his head. "All but the teenager, sir. The girl, she got away with one of the workers."

"Tell me. How, exactly. Did you let a _little girl_ get away?"

"Her father was very willing to protect her, sir, we-"

"I AM NOT ASKING FOR EXCUSES."

The room fell silent and Zarkon huffed, fingers digging into his chair and the scar on his cheek tightening hard as he frowned. "We cannot afford to let the resistance continue," he snarled. "You know this, Haxus."

Haxus gulped, nodding and twisting his hands into fists. "Yes, sir."

"What do I do, then, with someone who led the charge that let escape _the one person_ who could conceivably bring this organization to its knees?"

"Sir, she's just a teenager, she can't-"

"The man she escaped with WAS HER FATHER'S CLOSEST ADVISOR."

"N-No, sir, he was just the gardener, we saw the records, he-"

A manila envelope slammed to the ground in front of Haxus and the man flinched back as Zarkon scowled. "Explain to me, then, why he has co-signed on deals. Is constantly at his side in these photos. Is seen teaching martial arts?"

"….affair?"

The shot was loud, and Haxus gasped, hands instinctively moving to cover his stomach. Zarkon lifted the pistol in his hand and aimed it at his head. "You disappoint me, Haxus."

The second shot echoed, and Zarkon turned to glare at Haxus' second in command, who was looking away from his dead comrade with steely eyes. "Sendak. Find the girl. Find the advisor. Kill them both. And do not disappoint me."

"Yes, sir."

Sendak and the troops left and Zarkon turned to Haggar, scowl shifting to a typical frown. "Where's the woman I was told of?"

"Outside, sir."

"Send her in."

Haggar nodded to the doormen and they pulled the side doors open, ushering a woman and a young tween into the room. They walked steadily, unafraid, and Zarkon sneered. "And who are you?"

The woman smirked and tossed Zarkon a wallet. "One of your coverts. You'll find the credentials in there. I have news on the escaped girl and advisor."

Zarkon eyed the badge silently and then squinted at the boy. "The kid?"

The woman's hands twitched. "My son," she snapped. "He's helped me with this. He is committed to this cause just as much as I."

The tween nodded once, dark bangs drifting over his eyes as he ducked his head. Zarkon pursed his lips. "I don't like outsiders."

"I know, sir. But he is the one who found the information. He saw the girl and the man escaping."

"How?"

She nudged the boy and he glanced up, eyes startlingly purple. "I was at a study group, sir. For school. I was leaving and I saw them drive past."

"This is not useful," Zarkon rumbled, hands tightening. "If I do not know where they went, then it does not matter to me-"

"Sir," the mother interrupted, voice cautious. She knew what a danger it was to interrupt their leader, so she held her hands up slowly. "My son…he followed her. He recognized the plates. He's…he's studied the plates of their advisors and workers. Tell him."

The tween nodded. "Yes sir. I was leaving anyway, so…I had my bike. They're staying in the Holland Motel for the moment, but I think…I think they might have suspected me. So I don't know for how long-"

"Enough. You have proven competent. You may be useful in the future. Haggar-get him credentials. Name, boy?"

He lifted his gaze again, fingers tapping nervously on his thighs. "Keith, sir. Keith Kogane."


	2. Is It Still A Home When You're All Alone

**Chapter Two: Is It Still a Home When You're All Alone**

 **I know I said I'd update this bi-weekly, but I have free time for the next week, and I plan to use it.**

 **I don't own Voltron.**

* * *

 _Sanchez Household, November 2_ _nd_ _, 2014. 4:36 am._

Lance regretted making his phone's ring tone a Rick Roll, he really did. There was nothing worse than being in the middle of a fantastic dream with gorgeous people and free food than to be jolted awake by a warbly, "IIIIIIIIII just wanna tell you how I'm feeeellliiinnnnn!"

He fumbled for the mobile device with a grunt and squinted into the helicopter search light that was his home page, making out the name "Katie Holt (Neeeerrrddddd)" on his incoming call screen.

"This better be fucking good," he huffed, swiping the green phone symbol across the screen and dragging the phone to his ear. "Katie, what the hell, it's like 4-"

"Lance?"

He sat bolt upright, heart stuttering in his chest at the utterly broken sound of her voice, the way it caught on her breathing, and he shot a hand out to click his light on and stumbled out of bed. "Katie? What's-?"

"I um…the police are here, and they um…c-can you come over?"

Lance cursed and tripped to his window, ripping the blinds open to see that, sure enough, the Holt's front lawn was covered in police cruisers. Blue and red lights twirled through the neighborhood. "Shit, hon, of course. Yeah, I'll be there. Like two minutes, okay?"

Her breath stuttered and he could almost see the way she would be curled around the phone, knees drawn to her chin and fingers digging into her hair. "Okay," she murmured, voice too small for Lance's comfort.

"Stay there babe, okay?" he whispered, struggling to put on his sneakers while simultaneously hopping to the door. "Love you."

"Love you too."

He hung up the phone and shoved it into his short's pocket, grabbing a jacket from the back of his door and wrenching it open. He flung himself into the hall and sprinted down the stairs while putting it on.

His mother jolted awake from where she had fallen asleep in the arm chair again when Lance came thundering around the corner and she squinted at him. "Where's the fire, honey?"

"Katie's house," Lance yelped, grabbing the spare keys from the hook on the refrigerator. "Police are there."

The woman cursed in Spanish and joined Lance in his frantic movements, snatching her own jacket from the dining room table and following him out the door. They raced across the lawn together and were promptly stopped by a few officers, who looked exhausted but firm. "I'm sorry, there's nothing to see here, we're going to have to ask-"

"Lance!"

Lance shouldered past the officers without a word and ran for the door of the Holt house, dragging Katie into a tight hug and pressing his hand to the back of her head, wincing as she started sobbing into his shoulder. Colleen was leaning against the doorjamb, face streaked with tears and skin taught. Lance's mother followed him up the steps and caught the woman up in a hug as well.

"Colleen, what is going on?" she demanded, though her voice wasn't harsh. "What happened?"

Katie shivered against Lance and he settled his chin on top of her head, threading his fingers through her hair and humming softly as he listened to Colleen and Lara speak. "They just…they showed up…Sam and Matt were on that undercover ops mission, you know?"

Lara nodded and Lance grimaced, seeing where Colleen was going. "Um," Colleen hiccupped. "They're not coming back." Her voice was low, but still it cracked, and Lance pressed Katie tighter to him. "They've lost all communication and it's been two weeks and the last anyone heard, they were in hostile Galra territory undercover, and so they…they say that they're most likely dead. They just received word that Sam's communication piece was destroyed. That's why they're…why they're here."

Lara pursed her lips and glanced over at her son. "Lance, take Katie back to our house for the night, all right?"

Lance nodded and curled his arm around Katie's shoulders, his grip firm as he scooped her up. She squawked and clung to him, her nose pressed to his shoulder. "I can walk," she managed to choke out.

He shook his head and shifted his grip. "Nope."

For once, she didn't protest, which was a testament to Lance how drained she was. The 17 year old usually fought him like hell when he picked her up. Though it was usually as a joke, because she wasn't big on physical contact, Lance had a feeling she needed it tonight.

He pressed open the door and nudged Bluebell aside so that the cat wouldn't get out, clicking the screen door shut behind him and depositing Pidge onto the couch in the living room. She clung feebly to his shirt before letting go, reluctant, so Lance leaned over and picked up the intrigued Bluebell, dumping her into Pidge's lap. The cat instantly started purring and plopped straight onto Pidge's stomach, paws kneading at her sweatshirt, and Pidge managed a soft huff. She lifted her hand to scratch the cats ears before turning her watery gaze on Lance.

"They're not dead," she croaked, her voice firm.

Lance hesitated and sank down onto the floor next to the sofa, reaching out to bop Bluebell's nose. The cat chuffed at him indignantly. "Katie, I-"

"No."

He shut his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding slowly. "Okay," he murmured. "What do we do, then, Nerd?"

When he glanced up, she looked stunned. "What?"

"What do you mean, what do we do?"

Lance shrugged and fiddled with the drawstring of his shorts. "You're not going to let it go. And I don't want you to. So what do we do, Katie?"

She flinched and glanced out the front window, going quiet. "Can you um…" she trailed off, fingers gripping at the hem of her sweatshirt and tugging at it. "M-Matt's not here right now, so can you…"

He frowned, eyebrows crinkling, and when she turned to look at him, pleading, something clicked in his head. "Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah of course, hon."

He cleared his throat dramatically and shifted in place, shooting her a devilish look. "What do we do, then, Pidge?"

She cracked a small grin at the glee he took in finally getting to say the nickname without getting punched, and then sobered up quickly. "We're finding them. And if the Galra have them…we're going to get them back. Shiro, too."

"Takashi Shirogane?" Lance asked in surprise. " _Captain_ -?"

"Yes. He was second in command to Dad."

"You want to fight the Galra. The most notorious gang in the fucking country."

"I need them back, Lance," Pidge said, her eyes glassy again. Bluebell rumbled and nuzzled into her hand, and Lance softened.

"All right, _chica._ Not tonight though. You need some sleep."

"Promise me."

"I promise, Pidge."

* * *

 _Holt Household. June 17_ _th_ _, 2015. 2:02 pm._

"I know he put it here. He had to have put something here, he promised he would," Pidge grumbled, choking on a dust bunny as it rose into the musty attic air.

Lance frowned, picking up an old record. "Pidge, Matt hasn't been here since school started last year. What would he have left you that early in advance?"

Pidge flung her hands in the air, scattering a handful of old buttons all over the floor. "I don't know, okay Lance? But I know him, and he knows me, and he would never ever go on a mission like that without leaving something for me and mom to know what he was doing. He always disobeyed orders like that."

Hunk, from the other side of the attic, glanced out the tiny window and furrowed his eyebrows. "What are we even hoping to find? It's been months since we started searching, and we don't even have proof that Matt left something in the first place."

"We just have to try," Pidge declared firmly, her jaw set. "This is the last place in the house we can look. Please, guys."

They both nodded silently and went back to digging through their respective boxes, putting aside old books, magazines, and records as they did so.

The attic was furnished but rarely used for anything but storage and, once when they were kids, a late night séance. A thick layer of dust covered nearly every surface available, and the ceiling was so low that when Hunk and Lance stood up, they had to duck when they got towards the corners. Pidge could stand all the way up right until she got close to the walls, so she was searching the nooks and crannies and Lance and Hunk had taken over the middle and far side of the room.

Lance leaned forwards on his knees to peer into what could only be called a pirates chest, ducking inside to pull out the last couple magazines and flip through the pages. Nothing fluttered out, and so he tossed them back inside hard enough to create a hollow sounding "thud."

He frowned, glancing towards the trunk. The bottom rested flat on the floor. Nothing about the sound should have sounded the way it did, like someone was tapping on a thinly boarded up space. It should have been a solid thwapping sound, the one that his books made when he chucked them onto his desk.

Hunk and Pidge were still absorbed in what they were doing, so Lance sat back up on his haunches and leaned back into the trunk, running his fingertips along the edges. His nails caught in the bottom left corner on the smallest hole ever and, hoping he wasn't about to lose his finger, he wiggled his pointer into it and pulled straight up.

The false bottom came out with an angry screeching sound, making Hunk and Pidge jump a good foot in the air. Lance pulled it all the way out as they came rushing over, setting it aside and then leaning back over the rim to pull out a long, thin lock box with a note taped to the top. "Uh…it's for you," he managed, handing it over to Pidge.

Sure enough, the note had the name "Pidge" written on it in Matt's blocky lettering. Lance put the trunk back together while Hunk went about cleaning up the attic as best he could and Pidge read.

After a few moments of general silence, she piped up. "He gave me copies of everything he and Dad knew. Everything. Said that…if something happened, he knew I would look everywhere, and that I'd find this. Most of it's encrypted. It could take me a while to decipher."

"How long is a while?" Hunk asked.

Pidge frowned, adjusting her glasses. "Well…Matt and I had a couple codes that we used together. But this doesn't look like any of those. It's…almost like a combination of them. Maybe a month? Less?"

"They were looking into that gang, right?" Lance noted. "The really nasty one?"

Pidge nodded, her face falling a little. "The Galra. Yeah. According to what Dad said, their leader is a real nasty guy. If they really got captured…"

Her voice trailed off, jaw clenching tight and lower lip trembling. Hunk wrapped a tight arm around the girl and Lance took the letter from her gently, skimming what Matt had written. "He also says that they have some Galra members in the system that were allied with him and Mr. Holt. So that's a good thing, right?"

"Maybe," Pidge admitted. "If they weren't lying, or captured along with Dad, Matt, and Captain Shirogane."

Lance held up the letter, giving Pidge a meaningful look. "Hey. You got this. Think positive. You're going to find them. _We're_ going to find them. Promise, Pidgeon."

Hunk nodded in agreement and Pidge managed a smile. She swiped at her eyes and took the paper back, taking a deep breath. "All right," she said after a moment. "Let's go."


	3. Could Be the Start of Something Good

**Chapter 3: This Could Be the Start of Something Good**

 **Officially starting my bi-weekly update schedule. Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed and read so far! Next chapter of From the Top should be up later tonight or tomorrow, since we don't have classes and I have coveted free time.**

 **Song: Start of Something Good, Daughtry. I don't own Voltron**

* * *

 _Altea Public Library. December 23rd, 2015. 2 am._

* * *

"Pidge, are you sure?" Hunk asked nervously, glancing around the rooftop of the library. "It's…way past closing."

Pidge scoffed and tossed Lance a coil of rope. "Um, of course I'm sure, Hunk. The library is connected to the police station, and I need to find a new lead. The old trail ran dry. You know this."

Hunk lipped his lips and squinted up at the snowy sky. "Yeah, but it's like, negative thirty degrees out, man!"

Lance chuckled and knelt in the snow covered rooftop, dark jeans a sharp contrast to the white flakes. "Hunk, my weather app would disagree with you by about fifty degrees in the other direction. Come on, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave. Help me keep Nerd's stuff clean."

"Why couldn't I man the getaway car?" Hunk grumbled, squatting next to Lance and tightening the burnt-orange scarf around his neck.

"Because you drive like a grandma," Pidge said dryly, a quirk at the corner of her lips as she started typing at her keyboard. Lance handed over a piece of cardboard and two clothespins, which she fastened over the computer to keep the snow off. "And I didn't trust Lance to boost me up the fire escape."

"I'm offended, Pidgeon."

"I do not drive like a grandma."

Lance chuckled and left the two alone to take a lap around the roof of the building, keen eyes scanning the horizon and keeping a look out for any incoming cars.

They had found the perfect in between section of the library and the police station, right where all of the hardwiring intermingled and cohabited space together, but within the building itself, it was directly inside of a holding cell. Because none of them really wanted to commit a minor crime, and because they wouldn't have been able to take their electronics into the holding cell anyway, their only other options were to drill through from the library side or do it from the roof access port. Pidge chose the easier, albeit colder option.

The area surrounding the building was almost dead silent; the swings at the adjoining playground creaked ominously in the slight winter wind, and the faint sound of a bubbling creek could be heard over the jangling sound of the automatic radiator.

There were two cop cars in the parking lot on the Eastern side without snow on them, indicating that there were only two officers on duty in the building at the moment. Lance wasn't all that concerned; the cameras didn't swivel to the roof, and they had timed their climb to be between camera shifts.

For a moment, everything was calm, and Lance allowed himself to relax against the ledge of the rooftop.

And then what could only be called a soccer mom van swerved into the lot. Lance cussed and ducked his head lower, snapping his fingers twice into the air with a crisp sound. Hunk and Pidge's quiet murmurs instantly halted, and Lance lifted his gaze to watch the driver.

A young woman, probably no more than a year or two older than Lance himself, climbed out of the driver's seat, wrapping a dark teal scarf around her neck. She had startlingly white hair that was offset by the dark color of her skin, and Lance was honestly stunned for a moment at her sheer beauty.

Then she kicked the car door shut with a boot covered heel, stomped across the parking lot, and slammed the entrance to the police station open. It swung shut behind her and echoed through the early morning air, and Lance turned to look at Pidge and Hunk with wide eyes. They shot him confused looks and he shook his head in disbelief before turning back to watch the door, one hand held up in a fist for Hunk and Pidge to watch.

After a moment, the door to the station opened again and the woman walked back out, grinning this time and tossing a goodbye to who Lance assumed was the desk officer. Her boots clicked across the pavement as she walked, and Lance slowly lowered his hand into a flat palm, indicating for Pidge to keep working.

The woman climbed into the car but didn't turn it on, merely sat in the lot. Lance frowned, eyeing where her car was parked and where their escape was. It wasn't in her line of vision, but it also wasn't the quietest structure in existence.

As silently as possible, he slipped back over to Pidge and Hunk and leaned over Pidge's shoulder, watching her fingers fly. "Almost done?" he hissed.

Pidge held up a finger, eyebrows crinkling together. Her nose was red and her eyes glittered dangerously behind her glasses. "Twenty seconds," she mumbled, breath ghosting into the air. "I'm at 98%. Who's the mystery driver?"

Lance clicked his tongue, glancing back over his shoulder. "Some lady. Real pretty. Looked pissed off. She left the station, but she's still just sitting in her car in the lot."

"How close?" Hunk asked.

"Far enough that if we're quiet, we'll be okay."

Pidge shut her laptop and slipped it into her bag. "Good. Let's go. Lance, your car is in the baseball lot?"

Lance peered out over the rooftop to the playground and the baseball field next to it. "Yup. Behind the concession stand. Hunk, you're first down. I'm last."

"Got it," they both whispered.

They crouched low to the floor of the roof and picked their way to the fire escape they had come up, Lance sneaking another look into the parking lot. "She's still there," he muttered.

Pidge poked her head up next to his. "She's looking the other way though. Cameras?"

Lance glanced at his watch and then at the cameras mounted to the swivel stands on the opposite building's corners. "Two minutes. Go."

Hunk swung over the edge without hesitation, his dark boots making the smallest thud when they hit the metal platform. He circled down as quickly and quietly as possible, dropping the extra six feet to the ground with no qualms. He ducked into the shallow doorway nearby and waved a hand.

"94 seconds," Lance muttered.

Pidge nodded and clambered down the rungs like a monkey, swinging into Hunk's grasp without even pausing. Despite her stature and weight, Hunk caught her easily and deposited her into a standing position next to him, hidden in the shadows.

Lance twisted his wrist and looked at his watch. 62 seconds.

He glanced one last time at the car, noting that nothing had moved, and swung his leg up and over the edge of the roof. The metal was cold under his un-gloved hands and Lance shivered as he climbed down to the bottom of the fire escape. His legs were gangly enough to just almost touch the ground when he dangled from the bottom, his shirt riding up and goosebumps littering his skin as the chilled air hit it.

Hunk's gloved hands circled his hips and pulled him down the rest of the way, swinging him back into the alcove. Lance huffed a thanks and then pushed his sleeve back to see his watch. "47 seconds while we wait for the cameras to swivel away, and then we cut around the side lot and make it look like we were just walking through the lot for a late night stroll."

Hunk and Pidge both nodded, Pidge lifting her wrist and tapping away at her computer watch-her own invention, nothing like the pathetic ones that phone companies were starting to come out with. "I got pretty much everything," she informed them, her glasses reflecting the tiny screen under her nose. "It'll take me a while to sift through, but we should be-"

"May I ask what you're doing?"

To their credit, none of them screamed or jumped. They had taught themselves to be quiet in every scenario, and the only sign that they were startled was the way Pidge instantly dropped her arm and Hunk's eyes shot up. Lance's heart rate spiked ever so slightly, but he turned around smoothly, shooting the woman-the same woman he had been watching mere moments ago-his famous "charmer" smile. "Hanging out. You?"

She cocked an eyebrow, breath dusting as she gave a sharp laugh. "Hanging out. On a rooftop? Of the police station? At…2:30 in the morning?" she commented after a quick peek at her phone's display screen. Her British accent was almost as gorgeous as she was.

Lance shot a look to Hunk, whose intimidating demeanor instantly dropped. He leaned against the brick wall next to him and gave the woman an easy smile. "You must be mistaken, Miss. We were hoping that maybe this alcove might shelter us a little from the wind so that we could warm up. Our friend here…she wasn't having a superb night. Needed a walk."

Pidge, bless her soul, had wrapped her arms around herself and shrunken into her coat. Her eyes were watering behind her glasses and the freckles on her nose, usually only visible when it was summer or she was pissed off, were prominent against the flush of her cheeks.

Usually it was enough. People felt for the tiny teenage girl in front of them protected by who might be siblings or close friends. But this woman. Lance had met enough people and picked enough pockets to know when people didn't believe his lies. This lady was one of them. Though her eyes glinted with a brief moment of sentiment for Pidge, she turned her sharp gaze back to Lance, a smile twitching on her lips. "I'm not about to tell the police, if that's what you're wondering. They're dicks anyhow."

Lance clucked his tongue. "Might have to report you to the fine blues inside for that, Miss."

The smirk grew and she stuck out a teal gloved hand, gaze dangerous. "Allura Kingsman," she offered. "Tell me what that fancy computer on your sad friend's wrist is and I might not have to tell my friends about the um…trespassers? Spies?"

Lance opened his mouth for a rebuttal but then Pidge was pushing through him and Hunk, eyes sparking like she had just heard a very valuable piece of information. "I'm sorry, did you say Kingsman?"

Allura faltered, like she hadn't been expecting that response. "Um…yes?"

"Like…your father was Alfor Kingsman? The leader of Voltron?"

Her face went ashy and Allura stepped back, mouth gaping. "I…how could you possibly-?"

"Wait, hold up," Hunk said, holding his hands in the air. "You mean the Robin Hood gang Voltron? _That_ Voltron?"

Allura hissed and slapped a hand over Hunk's mouth, whipping her head back to look at the station as if they could hear them from inside. "No need to be so loud!" she snapped, her voice low. "The men inside don't know, and if they did, I'd be arrested! Now how do you-?"

"Wait," Lance echoed in disbelief, staring at Allura. "You're…dude…Pidge…she's _got_ to be the Princess."

Allura almost choked at the accusation, falling away from Hunk and glaring at them. With barely a movement, her hand shot to her waist and froze there, fingers clawing at empty air. Her face morphed from anger to shock and she looked down.

Lance lifted the knife in his hand, studying the shifting oil colored blade with interest. "Nice weapon," he mused, trying to keep the smirk off his face. Seeing the look of amazement Allura shot him, Lance winked. "I like to know what my potential enemies carry. Hell of a blade, here. And don't even bother going for the one on the other side."

Hunk held up a matching knife.

Allura crossed her arms, eyes narrowed, and turned her look to Pidge. "How do you know who I am? Who my father was?"

"My father," Pidge answered, shoving her hands into her pockets and rocking on her heels. "Samuel Holt. He and my brother worked closely with your father to take down some of the more elite Galra forces. They are…were…both cops."

She said it in a forced tone, eyebrows crinkling into the middle of her forehead. "They were on a mission infiltrating the Galra when they and their co-officer Shiro went missing. They were also looking for intel for your father, according to the encryptions my brother left for me in his last letter." Pidge nodded to the roof. "I was looking to see what else the police might have on their disappearance. I know they're not telling me everything."

Allura's gaze had softened, and Lance could tell she believed them, so he handed the knife back over. Hunk did the same, and Allura slipped them back into their sheaths without looking. "Which doesn't explain why you're here," Hunk noted. "At two in the morning. In a mom van."

Allura shot him a look. "It's inconspicuous," she argued. "And I…was doing something similar to you. I've been keeping tabs on the Galra. I still have some trusted people underground that weren't caught the night they attacked our original base. And I know the police know something, but they aren't doing anything."

"So if they don't know who you are," Lance asked, settling his hand on his waist and cocking his hip to the left, "why go to the pigs for help?"

Allura smirked. "They might not have known my father was the leader of Voltron, but they do know that he was killed by the Galra. And when you're-pardon how snobbish this sounds-as rich as I am, the police sort of bend over backwards. I found out something tonight about the Galra's base that the officers hadn't told me and so I went in to discuss it."

"You always go busting into the police station at the most god-awful hour of night?" Hunk wondered.

Allura shook her head. "Not always. Now, about that fancy arm computer?"

Pidge gave the woman a grin. "Wrist monitor. And not here. I'm…kind of freezing. As much as I hate to admit it."

Lance tisked. "When Pidgeon is admitting she's cold, it's time to go." He turned to Allura and held his hand out, lips quirking up. "Lance Sanchez. That's Hunk. Pidge."

Allura took his hand with a wry smile and nodded to her van, shaking once. "Shall we go back to my place, then? It's been a long while since I've had any help in the Galra resistance."

Lance pulled his hand back and looked to Pidge and Hunk with wide eyes. "Resistance?" he managed.

Allura's smile fell a little. "Well I just…you three seem very capable. It's been ages since someone successfully stole from me without my noticing, and that tech on your arm is incredible," she said to Pidge. She bit her lip, shifting a little. Lance could read people well enough to know she was nervous. "Of course, that was just an assumption. Perhaps if we could take the Galra down we could determine what happened to your family and friend. But you all look fairly young as well, so I wouldn't want to-"

"Hey," Lance interrupted before she could go further into her ramble. He glanced at his friends again and received the smallest bobs of heads. "We'd be doing this on our own anyway. We'll help you, on one condition."

Allura's smile was back full force, her eyes glimmering with gratitude. "What's that?"

"Voltron. The…the Robin Hood group." Lance licked his lips and looked to the ground, huffing. "Uh…they helped out my family a long while back, in a tight spot. Mama got some money stolen from her by some sleazy lawyers who took advantage of my abuela's death. She filed against them and I guess Voltron got ahold of it somehow, cause we got all the money back and then some."

Allura was nodding, face serious. "Yes. And?"

Lance straightened his shoulders. "I want you to start Voltron back up. It was a good thing, if a little ethically ambiguous. And I'd uh…I'd like to help with it."

Hunk and Pidge mumbled their agreements from behind him and Lance felt the load on his shoulders lighten a little at Allura's fond look.

"I think…I think that can absolutely be arranged. I've missed missions such as that, and I'm sure Coran would love the idea."

"Who's Coran?" Hunk asked.

Allura laughed and turned to walk towards her car. "Of all you know already, I'm surprised you don't have the answer!" she called. "Follow me home, we can speak more at length there."

"Hey wait, Allura!" Lance shot out as Pidge and Hunk started for his car. Allura turned back and lifted an eyebrow. A grin split Lance's face and he held up a glimmering bracelet. "Did you want this back now or at your house?"

Allura shot her gaze to the hand that Lance had shaken and her smile climbed. "Later is acceptable."

Lance winked and ran to catch up with his friends, tucking the jewelry safely into his pocket. Hunk looked at him curiously. "It's weird that she wouldn't ask for that back," he mused. "For all she knows, we're just going to run off with it."

Lance's grin got bigger. "It's got a tracker on it. I felt it on the clasp when I took it off."

Pidge snickered. "Oh, I like her."

"This," Hunk said with a shake of his head, "is either going to kill us…"

"Or?"

"No that's it. We're gonna fucking die."

"Way to be positive, Hunk."

* * *

 **Onwards to Allura and Coran's base of operations!**

 **Reviews make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and it's cold out.**


	4. The First Page of Our Story

**Chapter 4: The First Page of Our Story.**

 ** _Love the Way you Lie,_ Rihanna. **

**Sorry for not updating Sunday; my school has been having a lot of problems with sexual allegations, and I've been taking it upon myself to transcribe the meetings going on for records. When I'm not doing that, I'm in class or I need a mental health break.**

 **I don't own Voltron.**

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 _December 23rd, 2015. Voltron Hideout. 3:12 am._

* * *

Pidge leaned out the window of Lance's car, eyes studying the exterior of the building that was sunken in between two office buildings in downtown Altea. "This is it?" she mused skeptically.

Lance put the car in park and hesitated, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Hunk, in the passenger seat, looked equally perturbed. "I mean…we followed her the whole way, and this was the last drive I saw her pull into."

"Yeah, but like…it's falling apart," Hunk pointed out, nodding to the crumbling foundation with worry in his eyes. "That's not safe, guys."

"Hunk, you just climbed off a roof," Lance deadpanned. He furrowed his eyebrows and reached around his body, unclicking his seatbelt and letting the fabric drag through his fingers on the way back to its casing. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he shouldered open the driver's door, dark boots hitting the snowy ground with a crunch. The slamming of his door and the subsequent slams from Hunk and Pidge echoed through the desolate and abandoned neighborhood.

Lance zipped his jacket up a bit further, rubbing chapped hands together and wishing he had brought gloves. Pidge and Hunk sidled up to him, Pidge a little closer to his side than usual. Her temple thunked down onto his shoulder for a moment, crinkled hair tickling Lance's neck. "Are we sure this is it? That we're not going to like…get jumped or something?"

Lance frowned and pulled Allura's bracelet from his pocket, staring down at the tiny, blinking tracker on the clasp. He clenched his fist around it and gave a determined huff. "We'll never know if we keep standing here."

Honestly, Lance wasn't sure how he became the leader of their trio. Hunk made sense; he was too passive at times to take charge. But Pidge.

Lance glanced sideways at her as they trudged up the front walk. She had her head ducked against the wind, hands shoved in her coat pockets and shoulder length hair whipping into knots that would be a bitch to help get out later. Her laptop case bumped her hip with each step.

Pidge was headstrong. She was the reason the three of them were doing what they were doing in the first place. But she had always turned to Lance when she wasn't certain on something, and somehow that had turned into Lance making the big decisions.

Lance hated making the big decisions. He boasted about it at times, sure. But when it came down to it, he was scared that one day, one of his decisions would get someone hurt.

Maybe that was part of the reason he had been so willing to follow Allura to this creepy, white-people horror movie building, despite having only known her for ten minutes. She radiated control, gave off a massive aura of confidence. In fact, the only time she had faltered during their whole conversation was when Lance had lifted her knife without her knowing.

He cracked a smile at the thought and mounted the steps along the side of the building, skipping over the crumbling middle one and studying the metal in front of him. "Is there like…a doorbell, or a secret knock, or-?"

Pidge leaned around him, one hand on his shoulder and the one with her computer watch on it next to the door. "No wiring," she announced after a moment, glancing at her screen. "Normal door, normal locks. Knock, maybe?"

Hunk took the initiative and tapped his knuckles against the door with a resounding thump, fingers well covered with a pair of dark yellow gloves. Lucky bastard.

The door swung inwards within seconds and a man peered out at them, eyebrow cocked and mustache twitching. The glint in his eye was mischievous, but the look on his face told them that if he thought they were trouble, they were dead. "May I help you?"

His accent startled Lance a bit; he had been expecting another British person, or maybe an American. This guy had the sound of an Australian, or maybe a New Zealander. "Uh…"

The man's eyes shot to the bracelet in Lance's hand and the eyebrow moved further up his forehead. He twisted towards the interior of the building, voice loud and booming. "Allura! Are you aware that the young man on our steps has your jewelry?"

Her voice echoed from somewhere inside. "Let them in, Coran!"

Coran's face morphed into a more pleasant look and he stepped aside, waving them in. Hunk ducked in first, as he usually did, to canvas the area, Pidge and then Lance following.

The inside of the building most certainly did not match the outside. Of course it didn't. What clichéd move would it be if it did?

Rather than a warehouse, or a garage like Lance had been expecting, the room into which he and the others stepped reminded him of a typical one-story home. A massive fireplace sat on the far side of the room, a crackling fire snapping away inside. Slightly mismatched couches and chairs circled the fireplace, a dark wooden coffee table in the center containing magazines and folded up throw blankets.

There was one of those dividing curtains that people in Japan and China used that Lance couldn't recall the name of separating the fireplace and couches from what clearly functioned as the kitchen, gleaming marble countertops covered in cutting boards and cookbooks and miscellaneous spice containers. A bag of popcorn was spinning in the microwave and water was boiling on the stove, ejecting steam into the vent directly above it. Slightly offset from the kitchen was a massive oak table on top of a dark pink rug with chairs scattered around it, a bookshelf covered in knick knacks and more cookbooks separating it from the main entrance and the living space.

Another room, this one closed off, was directly next to the kitchen, and Lance assumed that it was either the bathroom or some kind of bedroom. A staircase spiraled down next to the entrance Coran had let them into, which was covered in a cheap rug and had a coat rack and hooks on the wall. A mud room, minus the room part. He kicked off his boots almost without thinking.

Overall, the room was one big open space, separated into a few areas by either the floorboards (carpeted in the living space, tiled in the kitchen, and wooden with various rugs everywhere else) or the small dividing factors, like the bookcase and the folding wall.

Allura was leaning against the kitchen counter, keeping an eye on the popcorn and the boiling water, but she waved a hand at them, beckoning for them to join. Hunk and Pidge joined Lance in removing their boots, and they all hung their jackets on the wall before following Coran over to the kitchen.

She pulled out the popcorn with eight seconds left on the microwave and held out a hand without speaking. Coran opened up a cupboard that was nearly as tall as Pidge and pulled a large bowl from inside, handing it over.

"Hunk, the salt, if you will."

Hunk jolted and turned, eyes scanning the counter and fingers nimbly plucking out the shaker Allura was requesting. He handed it over and shot Lance a look.

"Um…here's your bracelet."

He held it out, feeling shy all of a sudden, and Allura took it without looking, tossing it into a small ceramic bowl on the counter that held mismatched earrings and necklaces. Now that she wasn't totally bundled up, Lance could appreciate her look all the more.

She was barefoot, wearing a pair of dark leggings and an oversized apricot colored sweater that almost fell to her knees. Her hair, which was ridiculously long, fell loose around her shoulders, and a pair of tiny gold hoops glittered from her ears. A second pair of earrings, gold studs, were situated right above those ones, and yet another stud was in the cartilage at the top of her right ear. Unmatched on the other side, Lance realized when she turned around. "Why don't we all go sit at the couch?" she offered, holding up the bowl just enough for Lance to see the tiny dagger she had sheathed under her sweater sleeve.

Hunk bolted and Pidge followed him a little more slowly, shooting looks back at Allura with nearly every step. Coran turned back to the cupboards to grab smaller bowls and Lance swallowed his mild terror and fell into step alongside Allura.

"Uh…nice place. Is the outside-?"

"Modeled," Allura chuckled, her tone relaxing Lance a bit. It was friendly, at ease, if a bit cautious. "To make people think there isn't anything worth breaking in for, except perhaps shelter. Which, of course, we offer, if they're courteous."

"If they're not?" Hunk asked from where he was sitting ramrod straight in an easy chair.

"I gut them."

Crickets echoed in the room and Allura stared at them for a moment before cracking a weak grin. "That was um…that was a joke, of course."

Pidge and Hunk both let out halfhearted chuckles and Lance sat down next to Pidge on the blue and purple plaid sofa, butt sinking unexpectedly in the cushions. He took a bowl from Coran when offered and, seeing no one else take the initiative, doubled at the waist to scoop a handful of popcorn into it.

Allura seemed to breathe a little easier when he did so, so he lounged back on the couch like he would at home. He didn't go so far as to put his feet on the coffee table, but he did rest one ankle on his knee and let his foot jiggle restlessly while everyone else, Coran included, grabbed snacks from the bowl.

"So…if you don't have any tech on your doors, how do you keep out the Galra?" Pidge asked.

Allura smirked and flipped a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in her palm and studying it for a moment. "Straight to the point, I see. Pidge, was it? Interesting name."

Pidge bristled a bit and Lance settled a hand on her knee, knowing that Allura saw every movement they made. "Nickname from her brother," Lance offered. "Hate it, don'tcha?"

He ruffled her hair and Pidge grumbled, shoving him off. "Not as much as you."

Coran looked baffled. "If you don't like it, then why do you-?"

"So the security system," Pidge snapped.

Coran frowned but seemed to know better than to push the matter, instead sitting back in his lounger and putting his feet up on the table. Allura set her bowl on the arm of her own chair and leaned forwards on her knees, fingers linked together and brows furrowed.

"The Galra are not aware that I am still in town. When I go out it is either late, or I am well covered. It's been…years since we've been attacked. The most we get out here are petty thieves and homeless people looking for a place to sleep. Coran and I can handle the thieves well enough, and we have plenty of space to take people in for a night or two."

Lance shot Coran a curious look, one that Allura caught and chuckled at. "Coran might look like the butler type, but I assure you, he could kill any one of you before you could say your own name once."

Pidge snorted. "Seriously?"

Coran tilted his head in acknowledgment, rocking easy in his reclined state and tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth with ease. Lance, never one to back down from a challenge even when it wasn't obvious that it was a challenge, smirked.

"Lance Alon-"

He gasped, lungs pleading for air as Coran's forearm encircled his neck with just enough pressure to let him know that he meant business, one of the man's hands pressed firmly to the top of his scalp to either keep his head from moving or prepare him to have his neck snapped.

Lance hadn't even seen him move, and his popcorn bowl was resting on the coffee table like Coran had set it down and taken a leisurely stroll to the other side of the space. Pidge was pressed flush against the arm of the sofa, jaw dropped, and Hunk looked like he was stuck between pissed, terrified, and intrigued.

"Did he just…vault the coffee table and the couch?" Hunk managed.

Coran released Lance at once, his voice delighted when he spoke. "I sure did, my boy! Got a spring in my step, if I do say so myself."

Lance lifted a hand to rub at his throat tenderly and Coran clapped him on the shoulder. "No hard feelings?"

"I…no," Lance managed, lifting his gaze to look up at the man. He gave him time to walk back around the sofa, gather up his popcorn, and sit down before grinning. "You have a nice watch, though. Mind if I keep it? Also maybe your cufflinks?"

He held up a hand, jingling the cufflinks between his fingers and showing off the watch he now had strapped to his own wrist.

Coran stared at him for a long moment before looking down at his own hands, as if surprised to see that he was indeed missing his accessories. "Well. I can certainly see why you invited them here, Princess."

Lance tossed them back upon request and Allura smiled, kicking her bare feet up onto the coffee table and stretching pink painted toenails. "Indeed. Going back to your question, Pidge, I'm sure you can see why we might not need much security. We do have cameras stationed everywhere, and alarms at all of our windows, but because we don't technically exist to the Galra, at least right now, we don't need to keep our security super tight. If you three agree to join up, however, feel free to add whatever will make you feel safe while you stay here."

Hunk choked on a piece of popcorn. "Stay here?" he squeaked.

Allura's face fell a little and she removed her feet from the table, tucking them under her in what was clearly an attempt to hide. "Well…I had assumed…you three look old enough to leave home…of course, if that's not the case, or not what you want-"

"It's fine," Lance broke in quickly, glancing at his friends. "We just…we all go to Altea University? Hunk and I are sophomores, and Pidge is a freshmen. So we all live on campus. But honestly, the dorms suck."

"We don't know you," Hunk finally said, feet firmly on the carpet and popcorn set aside. The room fell silent and he cleared his throat, eyes shifting to watch the fire. "Just…I know we've all heard about you, but we don't know the two of you in the slightest. So me, personally? I'm a little wary."

Allura pressed her lips together and nodded. "Perfectly understandable. Perhaps I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so quickly. Perhaps we start off with one another's…stories? If that would make you more comfortable? I'm prepared to go first."

Pidge, Hunk, and Lance glanced between one another and then nodded. Pidge tucked her feet up under her and Coran got up, moving to the kitchen and coming back in a few moments with a tray of steaming hot chocolate for everyone. "Proceed, Princess," he said, setting the tray down and picking up a checkered throw blanket from the table to toss over his lap.

"Honestly, Coran, the nickname in front of the new paladins?"

"They'll be using it shortly, I'm sure."

Allura rolled her eyes, slipping a strand of hair behind one ear and taking a sip from her drink. "All right. I suppose…I suppose I start from the beginning then."

She took a deep breath and stared down at the floor, eyes glinting and dancing in the firelight. "The Galra first attacked my family when I was seven."

* * *

 **In terms of reviewing...idk, it would make me feel like this matters if you review. I literally will scream over total gibberish, so if you're worried about not having anything to say, that's totally fine.**


	5. I'll Never Back Down Again

**Chapter 5: I'll Never Back Down Again**

 _ **Like a Lion**_ **by Kristina Schell.**

 **Whoop, back at it again with sporadic updates. TW for blood and minor character death in this chapter.**

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 _November 17, 2000. Altea Aquarium and Zoo. 2:24 pm._

* * *

"Mother, come on," Allura whined, tugging at the older woman's hand and trying to tug her away from the penguin exhibit. "I want to see the lions! Pleeeeaaassse?"

Alana laughed and tugged her daughter back to her side, bending and pointing so that the bangles on her wrist clinked together pleasantly. "One moment, Peach. You see that penguin there? The tall one, that looks like he's wearing a suit?"

Allura squinted and followed her mother's pointed finger, spotting the penguin in question just in time to watch him poof up his feathers and chest until he looked like a massive puffball. She burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. "Why did he do that?" she asked.

Alana shrugged and straightened back up, taking Allura by the hand and turning in the direction of the lions that Allura wanted to see so desperately. "Not sure, Buttercup. Maybe he was trying to impress you." The woman winked, crystal blue eyes twinkling merrily, and Allura laughed some more, skipping alongside her mother as they strolled through the fairly empty zoo.

It was cold out, so most people had stayed home, but Allura loved the cold, loved winter, and her parents had relented to taking her to the zoo under the condition that her father could drink all the hot cocoa he wanted. Allura had agreed in a chipper voice, and had bolted to the car without even putting her boots on.

Speaking of, Alfor popped around the corner and joined them, his fifth piping cup of what smelled suspiciously like coffee and not hot chocolate in his hands. "And where might you ladies be off to?" he inquired, taking up Allura's other hand.

Allura squirmed between her parents and broke free, sprinting ahead and pointing to the sign that pointed them towards each of the different exhibits. "Lions, father! Just like the ones that the pal-!"

"Allura!" Alfor snapped a little too hard, eyes stern.

The girl shut her mouth and clapped both hands over it, her face sheepish. "Sorry," she peeped from under her gloves.

Alfor sighed and knelt next to her, tucking a white curl behind her ear and giving her a small smile. "Not your fault, love. I'm sorry for yelling. But the paladins must be kept secret, you know that."

Allura bobbed her head and pointed back at the sign. "I was just going to say," she said in a much smaller voice, "that they're like the ones that the paladins use as their tim…sym…what was the word, Mother?"

Alana chuckled and nudged Allura under the chin with a crooked finger. "Symbol, love. Their crest, if you will."

"I will."

The adults chuckled and Allura raced ahead of them once more, feet pitter pattering on the concrete sidewalk as she raced for the lion's den. The railing came just up to her chin, so she pressed up onto her tiptoes and curled her fingers around the cold pole in order to see better.

For a moment, she could see nothing. The enclosure was large, covered in grasses and plains, and she was worried that maybe the big animals didn't like the cold weather enough to venture outside and play. But then, just to the right, she caught sight of something moving, and she craned her neck to see better.

There was a sharp crack from behind her, and for a second Allura ignored it, thinking that maybe it was a bird in a tree. Her eyes were locked on the lioness as she emerged, maw split into a yawn and paws arching like a sleepy cats.

And then her mother screamed, and the lioness's head shot up at the same time Allura whirled around in terror, her back pressed firmly to the railing and her fingers shaking.

Her father had told her that, if she was ever scared, she should either run as far as she could in the other direction, scream for help, or hide. The other direction led to a lion, in this situation, and Allura was too scared to scream, so she did the only thing she could think to do: wrapped her jacket tighter around her body and ducked into the dense, prickly shrubbery that lined the border of the lion enclosure.

The lioness seemed antsy now, pacing and keeping her eyes locked firmly on the pathway where Allura had just been standing. Her fur glinted an orangey color in the lighting, a soothing mix of reds and yellows, and Allura let the sight captivate and distract her.

There was another crack in the distance, another shout, and Allura was vaguely reminded of some kind of television program she had watched with her parents once. Something about weapons, and crime.

She whimpered and pressed her nose into the collar of her coat, dragging her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them tightly. Heavy footsteps sprinted past the alcove of that she was tucked into, shouts dying off in the distance, and she had almost allowed herself to start crawling out when even larger thuds slowed next to the lion enclosure.

Allura peered up at the intruder silently, watching the way his eyes scanned the area, the angry look in his eyes, and she realized with a start that she was looking at Zarkon, one of her father's paladins.

She should have trusted him, should have clambered out and run to him for help, but something held her back; instinct, her father would have said. She swallowed and blinked back tears, heart beating so loudly that she thought perhaps Zarkon should have found her by now.

"Sir!"

She jolted, tilting her head slightly to see another man come sprinting up, someone she didn't recognize. His fingers were red, and Allura wondered dimly where he had found paint in the zoo. Zarkon turned to him with the same scowl, and his voice was cutting when he spoke.

"Did you find the girl?"

They were talking about her, Allura realized. Were they looking for her? Had her parents not realized where she was going? Did they think she was lost?

She had just moved to crawl out of the bushes when the man answered. "No sir. Her father has escaped, and her mother has been killed, as per the orders."

Allura froze, fingers hovering just in front of where she had crawled into the shrubbery.

"Those were NOT the orders!" Zarkon growled, reaching out and grabbing the man by the front of the shirt. He ripped him off the ground and yanked him to his face and Allura shrank back, teary eyes unable to pull away from the scene. "The ORDERS, lieutenant, were to kill the whole family! Not let two of them get away! We cannot continue if Alfor and Allura are alive!"

Allura swallowed hard and dragged her hands up to her mouth to muffle her breathing, unable to see clearly anymore.

The lioness in the enclosure snarled uncomfortably and Zarkon tossed a look to it, sneering and letting the man go. He snorted, striding up so that his ankles were at eye level with Allura's face. He kicked the fence hard enough for it to rattle and the lioness roared in anger this time, her eyes fixed on Zarkon. "Pathetic. The male lion is the king of the jungle, and what emblem does Alfor give us? The lioness."

Allura scowled. Zarkon was an idiot. Even she knew that the girl lions did all the hunting and fighting, and that lions didn't live in the jungle. For a moment, her mind was drawn from the terror and she was just irked.

"Sir, perhaps we should-"

"Leave, yes, yes, I am aware. Send the rest of the men to the exits. Allura and Alfor don't walk out of here alive."

He strode away and Allura finally released her breath, shuddering into her jacket and swiping furiously at the tears on her cheeks. Her mother wasn't dead. Couldn't be. Zarkon wouldn't do something that bad.

The lioness chuffed in her enclosure and Allura peeked back at her, fingers tightening in her jacket as she watched the animal pace. "It's okay," she whimpered to herself. "It's okay."

She crawled out of the bushes as softly as she could, stopping as the lion's gaze snapped to her, paws freezing against the solid ground and ears and tail twitching. Allura held the look for a moment, lip quivering, and backed away from the enclosure slowly. When the lioness sat back on her haunches she nodded once, turned, and fled, keeping to the edges of the pathways as she bolted back to where her parents had last been.

Her tiny footsteps slowed as she reached the corner, eyes drawn to something dark splattered on the pavement, and her breath caught in her throat. She knew that from somewhere. Knew the color, remembered it from when she had learned to ride her bicycle. Her hands had scraped the ground, hard, and when she had lifted them, the color on the sidewalk had been the same as this one.

Bleeding. Someone was hurt. And Zarkon had said…

Allura whined and burst into a sprint around the corner, skittering to a halt as she almost slammed into the back of someone's knees. A group was gathered and she shoved through them without much hassle, child's hands shoving at thighs and hips and knees until she stumbled to the edge of the crowd in time to see somebody who wasn't in a uniform drop a jacket over her mother's face.

"No, no, no, no," she choked out, ignoring the sudden shouts of recognition as she tried to run for her, adult hands holding her back.

"Is this her kid?" someone shouted from behind her.

"Where's your father, sweetie? Do you have any siblings?"

She struggled at the hands, tears streaming, and suddenly the crowd ahead of her parted and her father was bursting through. Allura sobbed in relief and ripped away, sprinting across the circle. "Daddy!"

Alfor jolted visibly but swept Allura into his arms and pressed her head close to his shoulder, body warm under hers. "I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered into her ear.

Allura shivered and clung to his jacket tightly, wrapping her legs around his torso and pressing her nose into his neck. "He…he said we wouldn't…wouldn't leave the zoo alive," she choked out.

There was movement, and the sounds of people's voices faded dramatically into the background. When Allura looked up again, Alfor was walking at a rapid pace towards the zoo's exit. "Who said that, baby?"

Allura frowned, fingers tightening. "Zarkon," she informed him quietly.

Alfor cussed and Allura winced, having never heard her father swear before. "We're getting out of here, baby, okay?"

"What about-?"

"Your mother…your mother isn't coming," Alfor managed, his voice breathless and his hands holding her closer. "She's um…"

Allura slumped against him, boneless, a word from a year ago, at her grandmother's funeral, coming back to her. "She's dead?"

Alfor flinched and pulled Allura back to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, baby."

Numb, Allura nodded and rested her head back down on Alfor's shoulder. "Did Zarkon do it?" she asked, voice low and body heavy from exhaustion.

"It sounds like it."

* * *

 _Voltron Hideout, December 2016._

* * *

Allura frowned and wrapped her fingers around her empty mug, shoulders slumping. "Um…and the second time they fully caught up to us, I was 14, I think. And my father-"

"Hey."

She glanced up at Hunk, lifting an eyebrow, and Hunk gave her a warm smile. "You don't uh…you don't have to go farther. It's okay."

Allura gave a grateful nod and tugged the throw blanket up her body further. Pidge frowned, thumbing a strand of hair between her fingers. "So Zarkon…used to be a part of all of this?"

Coran nodded, eyes heavy. "Yes ma'am. Alfor had recruited four other major gang leaders in Altea, offered to let them use their criminal behavior for good. Zarkon agreed to it because of his wife, Honerva. But she passed away back in the late nineties, and he became fed up with everything. He hated Alfor…hated everyone. The other three paladins…"

Allura scowled. "They were holding a meeting with my father when Zarkon and the other Galra members attacked. They were killed holding off the mercenaries so that my father could get me to safety."

She huffed and looked away, tears clear in her eyes, and Lance shot a look at his friends, trying to gauge their reactions to the story. "I'm in," he said after a moment of silence.

Allura and Coran both whipped their heads up to look at him and Lance managed a weak smile. "Even after what we just told you?" Allura asked.

Lance shrugged and looked to Hunk and Pidge, who were starting to grin. "Look, it sounds like your dad had a good thing going on. I know that Voltron helped people. And we want to. So I'm in."

"If it helps me find out what actually happened to my family, and I get to take down the Galra in the process?" Pidge said, shrugging. "Totally."

Hunk chuckled. "Can't let these two go anywhere without me, so I'm in too. What about school, though?"

Allura waved a hand. "I'll pay for it. All of it. You can choose to continue your education, or drop out for a bit and do this with me. I'll pay you, of course. It wouldn't be fair if I-"

"Not necessary," Lance said, a small smile on his face. "I mean, the school part would be nice. But I'm doing the Voltron part because I want to. Because I think this city needs us to. We don't run entire gangs, or anything, but maybe we can get the other gangs, the ones that are left, to fight back against the Galra."

"Like a coalition of some kind?" Coran mused.

"Exactly."

Allura stood, brushing off her leggings and holding out a hand. "Deal."

Lance stood and clasped her hand firmly, winking and then dropping it so that she could shake Pidge and Hunk's. "Deal," they echoed.


	6. Just Like a Thief

**Chapter 6: Just Like a Thief**

 _ **Thief,**_ **by Imagine Dragons.**

 **Uploading this today because next week I'll be in FLORIDA meeting one of my best friends for the first time, so idk if I'll update or not. So this is just a precaution.**

* * *

 _February 24_ _th_ _, 2016. Altea National Bank. 4:13 pm._

"Are you uh…are you really sure that doing this in the middle of the day is the best idea?" Hunk asked over the comms, his voice crackling with anxiety.

Pidge, across the room jotting down meaningless notes on a checkbook, glanced up at Hunk where he was positioned near the vaults, going through his pockets like he was missing something. "You know that this is the busiest time of day. No one will be able to pay us that much attention for too long."

Hunk shifted on his feet, eyes darting to look for a worker. "Yeah I know, but-"

"Buddy," Lance said over their comms. He was hidden from sight, waiting for Hunk's cue to make his entrance. "It's our first actual mission. I get it. But this scum waffle stole from every single one of his employees, and we're getting that stuff back."

"Okay but what idiot keeps stolen shit in a safety deposit box at the local bank?" Hunk protested in a hissed tone.

Pidge snorted and swiped a lollipop from the offered basket on the front desk. She unwrapped the sucker and stuck it in her mouth, grabbing a brochure about checking accounts and giving it a cursory once over. "The kind of person who is too confident in his ability to not get caught, and who doesn't bother watching his security cameras."

"Plus, this is personal," Lance reminded them. "Your Mom got stolen from, remember Hunk?"

Hunk huffed and waved down a consultant, eyebrows crinkling. "Oh, trust me, I'm aware. Just saying, if this goes wrong, we're sssssso good to see you, ma'am!" he finished off, tossing a dazzling smile at the young woman who had stepped over to assist him.

Pidge glanced back down at her pamphlet, keeping one eye on the situation.

"I was wondering if I could get into my family's safe deposit box?" Hunk asked. "My birth certificate is in there and I need it for a job interview."

This part was true. Hunk had an interview at a local café and needed to grab his certificate. It made for the perfect cover-up for their mission. The woman went through the usual procedure, asking Hunk for his set of keys and proof of identification, and then they disappeared together into the vault.

Pidge turned to the man behind the counter, setting the pamphlet down. "Excuse me, where are your restrooms?" she asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

Sure enough, the clerk leaned across the counter and pointed in the direction of the vault. "Down that hall there, to your left."

"Thank you!"

She turned away and crossed the queues of people waiting desperately to deposit or withdraw or whatever they came in for before the bank closed at 5. "Good," she murmured.

Pidge had just reached the edge of the hallway when she heard a shout. She turned and spotted Lance, dressed in a handsome suit with his hair slicked back, spinning on another young man with outrage. "GIVE IT BACK!"

The man flung both hands up, though there was an irritated look on his face. "I don't have it, man!"

The clerks had stopped from behind their counters, watching the situation warily; anything too violent, and they'd call the police. Pidge glanced sideways, eyes picking out the half dozen cameras situated strategically around the room.

"Coran," she whispered, ducking her head to hide her lips. "Cameras. Ten seconds, for the full three."

"Copy."

"This ASSHOLE stole my WALLET!"

"I didn't take jack shit from you, you absolute LOON!"

Hunk and the woman appeared at the door of the vault just in time for Lance to throw the first swing, and then the room was utter chaos. All eyes on Lance and the man, fighting and shoving, and none on Pidge as she ducked into the vault, pulling on a pair of leather gloves as she did so.

McElroy's box was easy enough to find; it was massive, disgustingly so, and had his name emblazoned on it like a cattle brand. "Am I good?" she asked Coran softly as she inserted her copied keys into the lock.

"Set. You have two minutes and 17 ticks."

Pidge huffed and pulled the drawer out, sounds of the fight escalating even further from outside. The cover was heavy, but she got it out of the way quickly enough, scowling when she spotted the inside. "Oh, this is totally it."

She moved as fast as she could, depositing item after item into her shoulder bag, taking only the things she was certain belonged to someone else. They had a list of items to watch out for that she had displayed on her wrist computer, and she ticked them off mentally as she found each of them. Finally, she reached Hunk's mother's wedding band and smirked, pocketing that rather than dumping it into the bag.

Cleaned of everything but a couple of papers, Pidge slid the much-lighter drawer back into place and locked it back up. "Time?"

"42 ticks."

"Copy. How's the crowd?"

"Jesus, guys, calm down!" Hunk shouted, his way of letting her know that she would draw zero attention.

Even so, she peeked out cautiously before stepping, and when she did, she edged her way right back to the hallway near the bathroom.

Lance, with a wide grin and a bloody nose, spotted her. His grin darkened and he pointed to the other guy's jacket as the police dragged him back. "Come on! Check his pockets, please! My whole paycheck is in there, I can't _eat_ if I don't have it!"

"Sir, could you please empty your pockets?" the police asked the guy.

The man, who Allura and Coran had notified them was an identity thief, grumbled but complied, emptying first his right and then his left pockets. His eyes widened the slightest fraction as his hand went into the left, and Pidge smothered a grin. Lance's pick-pocketing skills worked both ways, and she loved it.

He pulled out Lance's wallet, a baffled look on his face, and Lance pointed emphatically at it. "I told you!"

"Sir, we're going to need you to return the wallet to the man immediately and then return with us to the station," the police officer holding Lance back said sternly. She released Lance and held out a hand.

"But I didn't…I never…I didn't take this!" the man protested.

"The wallet in your hand says otherwise," the other officer said, eyes dark. "Now hand it back."

The man scowled and pitched the wallet to the ground. "I didn't fucking take the damn thing!"

"Sir, we're going to have to ask for some identification right now," the first officer ordered.

The man's face went pale and Pidge bit down on her lip to keep from smiling. "Uh…I don't uh…I don't have any on me."

"You came to the bank without identification?"

"I…well no, I…"

"Then please take it out, sir."

The guys eyes shifted and he bolted, instantly pursuing a chase by the police. One of the security guards stepped over and waved a hand. "Please resume, folks. There isn't anything else to see here."

He turned to Lance, a scowl on his face. "And you. I can't ban you from the vicinity, but that fist fight-"

"I know," Lance said, voice dropping to a sheepish tone as he knelt to pick up his wallet. "I just…I just really needed that money, sir. I'm sorry."

The guard softened a bit and nodded abruptly, eyes traversing the rest of the room and landing on Pidge. "Miss, are you all right?"

Pidge hesitated, eyes watering. "Is…nothing's going to happen?"

The guard rushed over to her, leaving Lance to walk swiftly and silently out of the building with Hunk on his heels. "Not at all, honey," the man promised soothingly. Pidge was grateful he said it in a fatherly way rather than a creepy one, because her acting would have become much more forced otherwise. "Would you like me to walk you out?"

Pidge licked her lips, prying her fingers from the wall. "Yes please," she whispered.

The guard turned to walk alongside her, starting up a pleasant running commentary on his three kids and his Rottweiler, who was pregnant. "Those kids are gonna be running around with baby Rottweilers and man, if that isn't the cutest and simultaneously most terrifying mental image ever, I don't know what is!"

She giggled and settled her hand on the door, turning to the guard and giving him a small smile. "Thank you, sir. For keeping me calm and walking me here. I have pretty bad anxiety, so-"

"Say nothing more, young lady, I understand. Here," he offered, leaning back and plucking a lollipop from the welcome table. "Have some candy!"

Pidge bit back her smile and took the offered treat, teeth aching at the thought of another sucker so soon after her first. "Thank you, sir. I hope you have a good rest of your day. I'll be sure to put in a good word."

The guard's chest puffed up and he waved pleasantly to Pidge as she walked outside and rounded the corner. Hunk caught up to her first, falling in step alongside her with Lance not too far behind, his nose cleaned up and hair once again messy.

"Got everything?" Lance asked without looking at her.

Pidge snorted. "What, did you think I would leave without it all?" She dug into her pocket and pulled out the ring, handing it over to Hunk. "As if."

They clambered into Lance's truck, parked across the street in the mall parking lot, and Pidge dug through her bag, smirking. "I got every item. Now we just have to get that piece of shit fired."

"Done and done," Hunk chuckled. "Coran and I hacked the computer system at Mom's workplace, caught him stealing from the employee lockers on multiple occasions. It's on the way to corporate and the other store managers as we speak."

"Hunk, you are the best," Pidge declared, leaning in from the backseat to high five him.

When they got back to the base, Allura and Coran were waiting with envelopes and boxes to mail back all of the stolen items, and the group set to work on addressing and labelling everything, making sure all of the things got into the right boxes.

"I'm proud of you three," Allura said after a while.

They glanced up and at one another, a little surprised. Allura didn't give out praise very often, and when she did, it was because she was genuinely impressed. Pidge pursed her lips. "Could've used another set of eyes," she observed, wrapping up a box with packing tape. "I wasn't guarded on all sides, and it could have ended badly."

"We'll find someone," Coran promised, handing over the address label for her box. "In the meantime, take the praise. She isn't likely to hand it out again."

"Rude," Lance mumbled under his breath. "We do great work."

"Tell that to my bruised thigh in training last week," Allura muttered.

"You know I'm a long range kinda person!"

Allura tisked and then looked to Coran, raising an eyebrow. "Speaking of…we have gifts for the three of you. For a successful first mission. My father designed them, years ago, and Coran has been tinkering with all of them to better suit them towards all of your personalities and abilities."

Coran excused himself from the table and sprinted up the stairs, footsteps thunking overhead. Lance gnawed on his lip and then looked between Allura, Hunk, and Pidge. "While he's doing that…we've been thinking, if it's okay with you, that uh…when this semester is over, we could maybe live here? For the summer?"

Allura's eyes brightened and she nodded instantly, pressing her hands together in a prayerful way. "Of course you may. We'll make up rooms for you and you can do with them as you please."

Hunk smiled. "Anything we want with them?"

"Within reason."

"Got them!"

Coran came vaulting down the stairs two at a time, a large bag in his hand, and leapt nimbly off the last step, a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. "Presents at the ready, Princess!"

Allura beckoned for the bag and set it next to her chair, digging into the parcel and rummaging about. "All right, Pidge first. These are all weapons, by the way, so please be cautious."

Lance almost choked on his tea. " _Weapons_?" he croaked.

Allura frowned just a little, hesitating. "Well…yes. You're all adults, and I…I couldn't live with myself if you didn't have some sort of protection other than knives."

"Wait…are you giving us guns?" Hunk squeaked.

"If you would be quiet and listen, perhaps you would know."

Hunk gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry."

Allura chuckled and rummaged through the bag, pulling out what looked very suspiciously like a revolver, save for the fact that it was tinted green. "Pidge, this is yours. It originally belonged to the leader of the Olkari gang. Coran suited it more to your needs."

Pidge took it gingerly, eyes nervous. "It's…is it loaded? Allura, I don't know how comfortable I am with guns."

Allura huffed and turned the item around. "It is not a revolver," she informed her. "Rather, it's…well, I suppose the most generic term is grappling hook."

"It's a WHAT?"

Pidge practically ripped the item from the woman's hands, twisting it around in her hands with awe. "I've been trying to design one of these for years, but I could never get the line tension right. How-?"

"Point and shoot, essentially. But unlike typical hooks from movies and TV, it latches onto any flat surface kinetically. No hook to worry about. Green button is to shoot, red to retract, and the yellow automatically connects the monitor to your own computer."

Pidge gaped and turned the weapon around again. Sure enough, implanted into the handle was a tiny screen, no more than the size of a first generation iPod. "I can't conceal it though, can I? If someone sees it they'll think that"-

"The barrel folds down against the handle so that it looks like a phone. It should fit comfortably into your pockets. Care to try it?"

"Inside?" Pidge asked, eyes widening.

Coran lifted an eyebrow and pointed at the ceiling, nearly twenty feet above them. "We certainly have the space for it."

Pidge scooted from her seat and squished one eye shut, her tongue poking out as she lifted her arms and aimed at the ceiling. Her pointer finger closed down on the green button and a dark line swung out from the barrel, propelled to the ceiling and latching there firmly. Pidge tugged a little on the item and glanced at Allura. "I won't fall?"

"Not at all."

"If you do, I'll catch you," Lance promised.

Pidge looked to Hunk. "Hunk?"

"I got you."

"Rude," Lance grumbled.

Pidge smirked and looked to Allura. "How do I-?"

"Put your full weight onto it and it will pull you up."

Pidge lifted her feet off of the ground and shrieked as the line rappelled upwards until she was dangling twenty feet in the air, eyes wide. "Sweet! Now uh…how do I get down?"

Laughter came from below and she shot the group a middle finger in response. Allura only laughed harder. "Take your finger off the green and press it again."

She did so, a little shakily, and sure enough, the line started extending again, this time a bit more slowly, lowering her back to earth. She pressed the red when her feet settled to the floor and the line whipped away, leaving her breathless. "That…was _awesome._ Thank you!"

Pidge pressed the barrel back into the handle and snorted. "It looks like a flip phone," she noted, shoving it into her pocket.

"Exactly. No one will want to steal it that way!" Coran said cheerfully.

Allura waved him off and dove back into her bag. "Hunk, I know you do better with less upfront things. So I have two items for you, left by the Balmeran gang leader."

"Weren't they like, the most peaceful gang in the city?" Pidge mused.

Coran hummed, stroking his mustache. "Indeed. But don't let them fool you; they put up a tough fight when you threaten them. Very close knit, that group."

"Yes," Allura agreed. "So Hunk, here's your crossbow."

Lance nearly choked. "His _what_?" he managed to get out.

Allura lifted what was most definitely a crossbow out of her bag, a smile dancing in her eyes. It was a pale yellow color, faded, but it glimmered like it had been recently polished. The arrow knocked in the bow glinted, the end of it similar to Pidge's grappling gun, and rope coiled from behind. "It works somewhat like Pidge's weapon, however you can replace the surface friction arrow with a lethal one should the need arise."

Hunk squeaked. "It shouldn't."

"Annndddddd...ah, here," she declared, pulling a small fabric bag from inside her own bag. It resembled a coin purse, if not a bit bigger. "Be careful with it."

"What's in it?" Hunk asked, taking the pale yellow pouch with cautious fingers.

"A bomb," Allura said, her voice deadly serious.

There was a long silence, and then the woman snickered and shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "I'm teasing you. They _are_ bombs, however. Smoke bombs."

Lance whooped. "Dude, like in the movies? That's awesome!"

"Quite. They react to only a pound of physical pressure, so store them cautiously. There is a space in the base of the crossbow that will hold them without making them burst. A single pellet will fill a reasonably sized room. They're not lethal, merely annoying."

"Hmm. Like Pidge," Hunk mused, taking the crossbow from Allura as well.

"I resent that."

"I know you do. So, where are the replacement heads for the crossbow? You know, if I do need them?"

Coran pointed to the length of the bow. "In here. There's a hatch inside that can hold up to two dozen lethal arrows and a dozen non-lethal at the same time. You don't need to remove the kinetic portion, as the other ones will connect to that one just by being pressed on. And you can retract the attached wire by hitting the red button on the back. Hold green to shoot, release to be lowered, and yellow to call the arrow back to you."

Hunk nodded. In his hands, the bow was small, maybe the size of a toaster, and he fidgeted with it. "Can I conceal it?"

"Unfortunately, not well," Allura said, clucking her tongue. "However, the Balmeran paladin was able to fit it into a simple backpack, which in most places will not be searched."

"You can, however, take the extra arrows and slide them up a sleeve or into a boot," Coran informed him.

"Good to know."

"What about me?" Lance asked impatiently.

Allura tisked and leaned back into the bag, pulling out yet another gun, this one a bit longer and slimmer than Pidge's, with a sniper feel to it. The whole thing was tinged a light cerulean blue, and Lance took it from her gingerly. "What does it do?" he asked, squinting one eye shut and looking down the barrel.

"Shoots non-lethal projectiles that, when they hit someone, will knock them unconscious for up to two hours. If it doesn't hit a person, it acts as a regular bullet. So be cautious with what you shoot at. You…can shoot, correct?"

Lance gave a wicked grin and spun in a firm circle, locking his gaze onto the far concrete wall. "That photo there," he offered, pointing to a piece of generic mountain scenery that had been hung up to give the place a little bit more of a lived in feeling. "I'm going to hit the bottom right corner."

Pidge snorted. "Yeah right."

His lips quirked and Lance breathed, both eyes open, and his finger twitched on the trigger. The wood of the frame exploded in the bottom right corner and only the bottom right corner. He lowered the gun, sticking his thumb on the safety, and bowed low, looking up in time to see Pidge clamp her jaw shut. "Sixteen years of video games and five years of hunting with my dad," he offered with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Not to mention six years of archery."

"Oh, wonderful! We do have a bow and some arrows around here as well," Allura noted. "If you're ever in need of them, of course. Anyway, that belonged to the blue paladin, the leader of the Nalquad gang."

"They control the riverside," Pidge piped up.

"Correct. The barrel of the gun does minimize, by the way, and makes the gun appear to be….similar to a thermos. Enough that most people will not look twice," Allura assured them. "Because of your ability to aim, I am also going to provide you with a set of the throwing stars that the Nalquad's are famous for. They can't break, but they can be lost, so please be cautious. We only have about two dozen left."

She proceeded to open up one of the cabinet drawers in the dining room and pull out a sleek black case about the size of a laptop.

"You keep throwing stars in the dining room?" Hunk asked dryly.

"Do you not?"

"No. No I don't."

She handed the box off to Lance and then stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her. "I…I hope these serve you well. And I am eager to see where this mission of ours takes us. Pidge, we will retrieve your family. And we will shut down the Galra. Permanently."

* * *

 **New chapter of From the Top by tomorrow at the latest, because I have work. Yay.**

 **I'd appreciate some reviews? It's really disheartening to only get one review when you put up a chapter this long.**


	7. Work

**Chapter 7: Work**

 _ **Work From Home,**_ **Fifth Harmony.**

 **Back from Florida, got a Blade of Marmora tattoo, living life. What up, here's ma boi KEITH**

* * *

 _March 15th, 2016. Varkon's Café and Bakery. 7:47 am._

"Nervous?"

Hunk glanced back at Lance and away from the café they were parked in front of, fingers drumming on the windowsill. "I…a little. Is that dumb? We've robbed banks and stolen stuff and committed like three other crimes, and I'm nervous about my first day as a waiter."

Lance held up a finger. "Excuse you, you are the head waiter. It's an honor at this place."

Hunk lifted a slow eyebrow, casting a glance back to the café. " _Varkon's Café and Bakery_. Which only has like, three waiters on staff at a time. Yeah. I'm sure it's an honor."

"Dude," Lance chuckled. "You got this. You'll be great. You're done at two?"

"Yeah. You'll be here?"

"No, I'm going to let you walk home."

Hunk grinned. "Thanks, you're the best."

Lance snorted and clapped Hunk on the shoulder, squeezing tight. "Dude. If it makes you feel better, I'll come early and get a coffee and be obnoxious about how great you are."

"Please don't."

"Fair."

Hunk climbed out of the car, dusting off his dark gray slacks even though there was nothing on them and straightening out his yellow button down. "Do I look okay?"

"Astonishing. Now get your ass in there before you're late."

"I'm ten minutes early."

"Right now you are. Now scoot!"

Hunk fought back his smile and huffed, shaking his head and giving Lance a tiny wave as he drove away before turning to Varkon's and eyeing the door. He ran his hands down his shirt one more time, tiny butterflies aching in his stomach, and pushed the front door open with a pleasant "Ding!"

The guy behind the bakery counter, who was counting cash, glanced up at the sound and offered Hunk a forced smile. "We're not open for ten more minutes," he said through slightly gritted teeth.

Hunk raised both hands, gut flip-flopping. "No, no, I'm…I'm not a customer. I-I mean, I have been a customer in the past, but today I'm not…I'm Hunk," he finished, his shoulders slumping.

The guy's face morphed into something a little less irritated but still not totally perky, which Hunk could understand; it was barely 8 am. "Ah. The new guy, right?"

He relaxed a bit and gave a weak smile. "Yeah. Hunk Garret. I'm the new waiter."

Putting the money back into the register, the guy shut the drawer and moved around the counter, leading Hunk to realize that he probably wasn't any older than him. "Keith Kogane. I'm the assistant manager."

Hunk nearly choked on his tongue. "You're…how old are you?"

A smile ticked up at the edge of Keith's lips. "20. Though I don't know how that's any of your business."

Hunk flushed and stammered out an apology, but Keith just shook his head, tiny smile growing. "I'm kidding, man. We're chill here. My mom owns the place…well, it's my family's business. Varkon is an uncle who paid for everything and then was too lazy to run the place himself, so he gave it over to us on the condition we kept the name. Annoying."

"I uh…I can imagine."

Keith's smile shifted from amused to outwardly pleasant, though his eyes still held a glint of challenge. "Let me show you around real fast before we open. Usually the rush doesn't start until around 8:30, at least on Saturdays. People sleep in, you know?"

Keith turned to lead him to the back, giving Hunk a chance to both scope out the shop and his new boss.

The café he had been in before, so he knew the layout pretty well: front door centered in the middle of the wall, the baked goods area on the opposite end of the room and the barista area directly next to that. The hostess stand and checkout register were closer to the door, and between the register and the bakery were the doors to the kitchens and the bathrooms. The seating area was a mix of freestanding tables in the center and booths nestled along the walls.

Pleasant crystal decorations garnished the walls, the ones closest to the doors and windows catching the morning sunlight and scattering rainbows around the room, and the tables all held tiny crystal vases with simple tulip and lily arrangements in them, most likely a reference to the upcoming Easter holiday.

Keith himself looked like an emo college student who had found himself in the middle of Coachella. He wore a black button down short sleeve shirt and a pair of what looked like black jeans with black high-top converse and a black apron. Basically, his whole outfit was black, down to the black fingerless gloves on his hands.

Definitely a biker.

His hair (also black, Hunk noted) was tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck with a red hair band, and he had a pair of glasses tucked into his shirt pocket. There was a braided red and black bracelet on his wrist, and Hunk noted that he liked to move his hands as he spoke.

"So back here is where all the baking and whatnot gets done," Keith informed him as they passed through the kitchen. "Separate from the general restaurant kitchen area, so that people aren't tripping all over each other. Kitchen doesn't open until nine, though. Staff for that comes in at 8:30. Now, all you need to know is this front section right here, where you input the orders."

He led him over to the computer in question and ran through a few of the most basic features, like how to sign in and where all the main items were. "If someone specifically mentions an allergy, you hit this red button here so that people pay extra attention to the order," Keith noted, pointing to the corner of the screen. "Annnddd if the whole table order is no more than two items, you handwrite it, 'cause otherwise it can overload the system. That usually happens with morning regulars who get like, coffee and an egg and sausage bagel. Coffee is done out there, and I'm doing that until our regular barista comes in at nine, so don't worry about any drinks except fountain ones."

"And bakery?" Hunk asked, taking mental notes.

Keith's eyebrow twitched, like he hadn't been expecting questions. "Same thing: they're ordered up front through whoever runs bakery. Usually that's me, or my mom. The only "bakery items" that we do through the kitchen like this are pot pies. That's it. Except during Christmas, because then the bakery gets overwhelmed, but you don't have to worry about that yet."

The watch on Hunk's wrist beeped and Keith glanced over at him. Hunk smiled and lifted the device a bit awkwardly. "It's uh…it's 8."

Keith nodded. "Nice. All right, I'm going to go open and get you started on learning table numbers. I'm assuming Thace already gave you the menu test?"

"Yes sir."

Keith froze, hand on the door leading to the dining area, and shook his head, holding a finger up to Hunk. "Nope. Keith. I don't do that formal shit. As for attire, you can lose the fancy pants and just wear dark jeans if you want. Top just has to be plain and button down and non-vulgar."

"And the gloves?"

Keith shot him a wry smile and a wink. "Personal preference."

Hunk already liked this job.

* * *

By eleven in the morning, Hunk had a hang of the ordering system, and he felt like he was doing pretty well with the customers. The rest of the staff was friendly, if not a little creepy, but Keith was good at teaching and Hunk knew a lot about food and how it was made in general, so he didn't feel out of place at all.

He was given his break around 11:15, a half hour to just sit in the back room and eat his allotted free meal for his shift. He took the offered soup and sandwich from the chef, Sal, and sank into the hard plastic chair like it could give him a massage.

The soup was a vegetarian vegetable, and the sandwich a simple half-Italian hoagie, but they pretty much tasted like the most gourmet food he could possibly imagine.

"Doing okay?"

Hunk nearly choked on the soup and glanced up to find Keith leaning against the door, wiping his bare hands with a towel. His gloves dangled from his jeans pocket. "I uh…was a little nervous," Hunk admitted. "Coming in, I mean."

Keith nodded knowingly and tossed the towel over his shoulder, sitting down across from Hunk and tugging his gloves back on. "You're doing great, man. I've already gotten like, four positive reviews from customers about how friendly you are. And let me tell you, in food service, you're more likely to get complaints than glowing, happy reviews, so that's a big deal."

Hunk flushed and glanced down, stirring his soup with the plastic spoon. "I…thanks. I appreciate that. Wasn't expecting my manager to be…"

Keith's brows lifted and his eyes glinted. "So young?"

"Chill."

"Hmm." Keith chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I try. The rest of the crew can be kind of…cold. But Mom raised me to be polite, and you seem like a genuinely good guy."

Sal stuck his head back then, eyes shooting to Hunk before landing on Keith. "Sir…uh…that customer you wanted to know about is here for you."

Keith's face shifted from pleasant to deadly in about two seconds flat, the amused glint in his eyes turning angry and his jaw locking into a hard line. Hunk could feel the tension in the room and he hesitated, fingers drumming nervously on the table. "Are they like…not good?"

He was met with two pairs of stony eyes, one set green and the other a deep, unnatural purple. Keith relaxed just a little, shaking out his fists. "Uh…he's not a great guy, no. I like to handle him myself. You sit, eat. You have 23 minutes left in your break. Tell him I'll be out, Sal," Keith ordered.

Sal stepped back out and Keith pursed his lips, looking back to Hunk. His face softened. "If people come in here and ask for me by full name…come get me. Don't serve them. Okay?"

"I…sure?"

"Thanks, Hunk."

Keith clapped him on the shoulder and then left, leaving Hunk to stare at the door in bewilderment before slowly going back to his lunch.

What the _hell_ had just happened?

* * *

It was around 1:30 when Hunk spotted the older man he had been serving swipe the wallet from the table of a young woman who had run to the bathroom. He frowned, shifting his weight off of the drink counter where he had been waiting for table 6's coffee, and strolled over with purpose, keeping his gaze set on the table just behind the man.

When they collided, Hunk instantly shot one hand up to the man's hip and the other to his shoulder, gripping firmly to keep him from falling, and gasped out, "Oh, sir, I am _so_ sorry, I'm new, I'm still getting used to the layout of the floor, I thought I had more room to move, I'm-"

The man hissed and ripped away from Hunk with a scowl, and Hunk stepped back, holding both hands up. "Whatever," the man snapped. "Just watch your step, young man."

"Yes sir."

Hunk watched with relief as the man picked up his coat and left, and turned to find Keith directly behind him, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. His chin jutted to the back. "Break room. _Now."_

Hunk winced, certain he was about to get fired for running into an elderly person. "Right. Just let me-"

"Now."

Hunk followed Keith back sheepishly, ducking his head and glancing back once more at the woman's still empty table as the kitchen door swung shut and he was led past the cooks and the busboys to the break room.

"You stole from that man," Keith said the moment the door closed. "I saw you take his wallet from his pocket."

Hunk froze, eyes wide and a finger hanging in the air. "You… _saw_ that?"

Keith scoffed. "You're admitting it. Wow. Incredible. I'm giving you one chance: turn it in to me now, and walk out, and I won't call the police."

Hunk threw up both hands. "Wait, wait, wait, it's not what you-"

"It's exactly what I think," Keith snapped, voice low and dark. It terrified Hunk more than if he had been yelling. "Give it up, and no cops."

Hunk dug into his pocket, one hand still in the air, and pulled out the worn leather. "Keith, I'm serious, it's not-"

"Mr. Kogane, to you," Keith practically snarled as he ripped the wallet away. He flipped it open, mouth opening to rant, and then stopped. He blinked twice and then glanced up at Hunk, searching his face. "This isn't-"

"I saw him pick it up off the woman's table," Hunk said quietly, ducking his head. "I didn't want to make a huge scene, so I just…took it back from him."

Keith narrowed his eyes, clapping the wallet shut and eyeing Hunk. "All right," he said after a long moment.

Hunk let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. "All right?"

Keith nodded once, brushing past Hunk to the door. "All right. You did a good thing, even if it wasn't done as ethically as it could have been. If you see this again though, speak to me."

"Yes, sir."

There was a moment of hesitation where Keith stopped with his hand on the break room door, jaw working. "That was…sneaky. Well done. I almost didn't catch it." He glanced back at Hunk, a look of confusion warring in his eyes. "And what did I tell you about that 'sir' stuff?"

Hunk managed a tentative smile and Keith returned it. "Watch those fingers," he offered. "Don't want the wrong people catching you picking pockets."

With that, he pushed out of the break room, leaving Hunk to visibly slump and sigh in relief. He had a lot of questions still, but for the moment, he was just relieved that he still had a job.


	8. Hot and Fresh Out the Kitchen

**Chapter 8: Hot and Fresh Out the Kitchen**

 _ **Ignition (Remix)**_ **by R. Kelly**

 **je-ne-parle-pas-francais: Oui, mais je parle francais, c'est une langue jolie. Merci pour - nope lol don't know that much. Thank you for your review!**

 **Whoop sorry I've been crazy busy the last few weekends so here's this.**

* * *

 _March 15th, 2016. Varkon's Café and Bakery. 10:30 pm._

"Everything going well with the new hire?" Krolia asked as she wiped down the counters around the coffee machine. Her dark hair was tied back into a messy bun, and strands kept drifting into her face and mouth as she worked.

Keith glanced up from the chair he had just set up onto it's table and shrugged, his eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah, mostly."

Krolia lifted her gaze, an eyebrow quirking. "Mostly? Was he rude? Slow at learning?"

"No, no way," Keith was quick to assure the woman. He frowned, tapping his fingernails against his thighs as he walked to the next table. "He's super polite, to me and the customers, he just…he picked a guy's pocket today?"

 _"What?"_

"Hold on," Keith said, holding up a hand. "The old guy stole a woman's wallet. And he stole it back."

Krolia paused, dusting her hands off on her apron and putting the damp dishtowel back into the sink. "He…what?"

Keith threw his arms out. "Exactly! And he looked so scared about it, like he thought I was going to fire him, and I was going to, if I hadn't realized what had happened, but I barely caught him in the act. Barely. That was professional level theft, Mom."

Krolia quirked her lips upwards. "What are you saying, Keith?"

Keith shifted. "Well…he's too nice to be involved in any of the heavier dealings that go on here. At least, so far. But I'm going to keep an eye on him, I think. He could be useful for what Zarkon is planning."

Krolia hummed, turning to pull the last pies from the display case and loading the still good ones into a large box to take to the homeless shelter on the next block. "Honey, Zarkon…might not want someone so on the outside helping him. You know how he is."

Keith frowned and flipped up the last chair in the café. "I know. But…couldn't it be worth a shot? You know I love the others but there's just…not anyone my age that I can be around in the Galra. Lotor is just a straight up dick."

"You know we don't talk about him," Krolia warned, shutting the lids on the boxes and moving back to lock up the case. "If Zarkon happens to look at the cameras-"

"I know, I know," Keith groaned, rolling his eyes. "Don't talk about the perfect little prince who only abandoned his whole fucking-"

"Keith!"

He shut his mouth and hit the lights on the wall before crossing back to the front of the room where Krolia was waiting for him. She was almost a head taller than him, and he shrank under her harsh gaze. She softened a bit and pressed her hands to his face, deep purple eyes sparking worriedly. The birthmark on her cheek jumped as she clenched her jaw. "I know you want someone your own age, baby," she murmured, stroking his cheeks. "I know the last few years have been tough. But one day we'll be out, I promise."

Keith scoffed and pulled back, rolling his eyes. "Yeah right. Zarkon never lets anyone go. Besides, where would we even go to? No way we get out of the city alive, you know what he did to the Kingsman family. Plus you like it. You know you do, you're only saying that so that I feel better."

Krolia pursed her lips, hands dropping slowly from the air to rest at her sides, and the woman sighed and ducked her head. "All right. Just…watch this young man for a while first, all right? We don't know who he might be with, if anyone, or if he would go blabbing to the police if he found out. Not that he'd get very far."

Keith tossed her a small smile. "Thanks, Mom."

"Now go get your jacket so that we can lock up, 'mm?"

* * *

 _March 18th, 2016. Varkon's Café and Bakery. 9:07 am._

When Lance first met Keith, all hell broke loose.

Well, that might have been an exaggeration. But in Lance's eyes, everything went to hell in a handbag the moment he tripped over his own two feet and dumped coffee all over Hunk's manager's apron.

By some grace of God, Lance had switched to cold coffee at the last second, but there was still something terrifying about dumping coffee all over the one person in the restaurant that could fire his best friend.

"I am… _so_ sorry," Lance gasped, eyes wide as he jumped to his feet and started frantically pressing his napkins at the man. "I totally didn't mean to trip, I-I can clean the apron or something, I'm-"

"Sir," Keith spat, grabbing Lance by the shoulders and pushing him back. "It's fine. No harm done."

Lance hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. Pidge was cracking up like the asshole she was, and Hunk, who had just brought their food to their table, looked utterly horrified. "I…I'm still sorry," Lance managed, wringing his hands together.

Keith glanced up from where he had been dabbing the hem of his shirt, eyes softening from their hard lines when he noticed just how freaked Lance was. "It's just coffee, sir."

"Okay," he finally mumbled.

"If you'd like to help, you could stand here and wait while I get a wet floor sign and a mop," Keith offered.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. "That'd be good."

Keith nodded sharply and twisted on his heel, leaving Lance and disappearing into the utility closet. Hunk raced over, eyes wide, and slapped him repeatedly on the shoulder. "Dude!" he hissed. "I've only been here like twice, don't dump shit on my boss!"

Lance winced. "I'm sorry, Hunk. He seems chill about it though, so that's good…right?"

Hunk pursed his lips and looked back to the utility closet, where Keith was slowly backing out with the mop bucket. "I…maybe. There's something about him that's just off. This whole business, really."

"What do you mean?"

Keith shut the utility door and Hunk backed away, shaking his head. "Later," he promised softly, turning back to his customers.

Lance looked to Keith as he stepped up, moving aside so that the guy could mop. "Again, I'm really sorry, sir. If there's anything I can-"

"It's fine," Keith bit off, his voice testy. "Just move aside so that I can mop this up. The barista can make you a new one for free."

Lance held back his snarky reply, hackles rising a little at the irritated tone in Keith's voice. "Fine. Thanks."

He stepped away, back stiff, and strode past Pidge to the coffee counter, slumping a little when he spotted the young woman working the counter. He gave her a sheepish smile and jutted his thumb over his shoulder at the mess. "I uh-"

"Mocha frappe, right?" the girl asked, her manner of voice suggesting that she could care less if he had spilled the coffee. "I'll grab it for you. Anything else?"

Lance hesitated. "Um…could you maybe like…I dunno, if there's a particular coffee your boss over there likes? I feel really bad that I-"

"Dude, it's fine," the girl promised. "He really doesn't care, as long as you aren't a jerk about it. Why do you care so much? Most customers are excited about getting a free coffee out of this."

Lance shifted on his feet, worrying his lower lip. "I'm just…trying really hard to make sure that he won't get mad at Hunk for this. I don't want him to get fired."

" _That's_ what you're worried about?" came a voice from behind him. Lance whipped around to find Keith standing there, looking at him in bewilderment, his hands clinging to the mop handle. A wet floor sign was all that remained of the spill, save for the stain on Keith's apron.

"I-"

Keith shook his head. "I'm not going to fire your friend for a simple mistake. Especially one that wasn't his. Chill, man."

Lance let out a breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding, fists uncurling at his sides. "Thanks," he said after a moment. "I appreciate it. He…really wanted this. I'd hate to ruin it for him, you know?"

Keith frowned a little and gave a one shouldered shrug, pushing the mop cart past Lance and back to the closet. Lance sighed and turned back to the barista, only to find his re-made coffee in his face. "Don't spill it this time, okay?" she said, her voice pleasant but holding an underlying warning tone to it.

"Roger. Thanks."

Lance walked the drink back to his table with Pidge, careful about holding onto it with both hands this time and watching where he was going. He sank down into his seat, kicking Pidge under the table to get her to quit sniggering. "Can you not?"

"Sorry," she guffawed, setting her scone down. "You're just the biggest idiot."

"Yeah, yeah," Lance grumbled, tapping his fingers against his coffee angrily. "I'm just a huge moron, I get it."

Pidge settled a little, nudging him under the table with her foot. "Hey, you know I'm kidding. It was just funny, is all. You got all blushy."

"I did not!"

She squinted at him, a sly smirk on her face. "Uh-huh. Sure. Your face has only ever gotten that red when you're talking to someone that you like."

"I spilled _coffee_ on my best friend's _boss_. Of course I'm embarrassed and blushing!" Lance protested.

Pidge's smile widened and she lifted her coffee to her lips, grin disappearing behind it as she took a long sip. "Okay, Lance."

"I'm serious!"

"I'm not fighting you on it anymore."

Lance clamped his mouth shut and stabbed his fork into the Danish that Hunk had brought him, shoving the blueberry and cream dish into his mouth much harder than necessary and unintentionally gouging at the inside of his cheek hard enough that he could taste copper. "Fuck," he hissed, ripping the utensil out of his mouth and using his free hand to grab at his jaw.

The fork clattered onto the table and Pidge leaned forwards, eyes wide. "You good, dude?"

Lance winced and swallowed the bite in his mouth, overwhelmed by the taste of pennies. He stuck a finger into his mouth and swabbed at the side of his cheek with it. Pulling back, he noted that his finger was drenched in blood and he groaned, clamping his mouth shut and forcing himself not to swallow instinctively. "I'm going to the bathroom," he mumbled.

Pidge nodded and sat back, attempting for a kind of humor as he stood up to leave. "I'll eat your Danish while you're gone."

"I will fucking murder you."

He poked her in the side as he walked past, glaring at the back of her head, and then pocketed her credit card so that he had a free hand to press the bathroom door open.

Once safely inside, with the door shut behind him, he turned on the sink and dunked his head down, using his hand to scoop the lukewarm water into his mouth and swish it about, spitting out blood with the remnants. He sighed and ducked his head, leaning heavily over the sink and giving a deep sigh. Of course this was his life, why would it be easy?

There was a tentative knock on the door and Lance huffed, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and shoving it into the side of his mouth before wrenching open the door, expecting Pidge to be on the other side demanding her credit card back.

Instead, Keith stood there, looking mildly concerned. "I uh…saw you come rushing back here," he offered, eyebrows furrowing into a single line like he wasn't sure why he was there. "Everything all right, sir?"

Lance slumped, one hand lifting to cover his cheek. "Can you drop the sir, please?" he managed around the towel in his mouth. "You're literally the same age as me."

Keith shifted in his spot. "Just trying to be professional."

"I know," Lance promised. He turned back to the mirror and sighed, pulling the paper from his mouth and scowling at the blood on it.

"Jesus, what did you do, eat glass?"

Lance looked back, lips quirking up a bit in a half grin. "It's your restaurant, so if I'm eating glass, it's your fault."

Keith managed a smile at that. "Point. Do you need anything? We have a first aid kit behind the counter."

Lance shook his head and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, wincing at the stinging sensation. "Nah," he decided, tossing the towels and washing his hands. "Just gonna take my friend's credit card and buy out the whole bakery."

Keith chuckled. "She feel that bad for you?"

"Nope. Little jerk. I stole it from her pocket."

"Ah, so you're the one who taught-"

Keith's teeth audibly clicked as his mouth shut, and Lance eyed him through the mirror suspiciously. "I'm the one who taught what?" he demanded, spinning around and leaning against the sink, arms crossed.

The managers fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt for a moment, and then he shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said after a moment, his tone a bit colder than it had been mere moments ago. "If you need anything, let me know, sir."

Lance gnawed on his lip as Keith turned to leave, feeling uncomfortable leaving the interaction in such a hostile light. "Lance," he blurted before Keith could fully leave. The man glanced back, eyebrows lifting, and Lance lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "My name's Lance. Like…like I said…none of that "Sir" stuff."

A hint of a smile ghosted over Keith's face and he nodded once before letting the door click shut, leaving Lance to turn, thump his head into the mirror, and groan. He took a second to finish drying his hands, check to make sure his teeth weren't covered in blood, and then tossed the towel away and ventured to the bakery. He proceeded to order one of everything they had left out, tossed Pidge's card on the counter, and then returned to their table moments later carting a single muffin.

Pidge eyed the treat, a smirk on the corner of her lips. "Get sick of your Danish?" she snickered.

Lance took a bite from the treat-blueberry-and nodded to the bakery, where the girl who had been working was now coming over loaded down with two trays full of food. Lance could see a third back on the counter. "Oh yeah," he answered, tossing her card back at her and grinning evilly through her squawked protests.

"Totally."

* * *

 **Rip Pidge's bank account.**

 **Hopefully a new chapter of FtT this week too, if I get my shit together lol. In the meantime, reviews are much appreciated.**


	9. Go Crazy

**Chapter 9: Go Crazy**

 ** _Live Forever,_ The Band Perry. Felt like an appropriate chapter to upload right after graduating. YEAH YOUR GIRL GRADUATED WHOOP!**

 **Now back to your semi-regularly scheduled chapter updates.**

* * *

 _Altea Community College. May 12th, 2016. 4:22 pm._

"Fuck yeah! Free for the SUMMER!" Lance whooped, piling his last box into the back of his car. He slammed the trunk shut, wincing as something tumbled and hit the ground in the back, and then high fived Hunk and Pidge, who were watching him in amusement.

"I can't believe you had a final on Friday afternoon," Pidge chuckled, adjusting her glasses. "We could have been gone ages ago."

"What, didn't want to move all our junk into Coran and Allura's at one time?" Lance asked, ruffling Pidge's hair and ignoring her protests. "Come ooonnnn, let's go! Pidge, you're good to go, right?"

"Half in yours, half in Hunk's," Pidge confirmed.

"Who you riding with?"

"Hunk. I don't feel like dying today."

"Fuck you too!"

He flipped them off and practically skipped to the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and buckling his seatbelt. For a moment, Lance just sank into the worn leather of his car, shutting his eyes and breathing.

Hell week was officially over.

He grinned and shoved the keys into the ignition, following Hunk out of the parking lot and down the street. His hand reached over to the radio and he twisted the knob until he hit his favorite station, a mix of oldies and new music. He cranked up the music, rolled down the window and attempted to ignore the still slightly chilled air, and slid on his sunglasses while belting out the chorus for _Phoenix._

Papers done, tests completed, room packed and inspected. Check, check, and check. Lance breathed in deep, letting his eyes shut for just a moment as he rolled to a halt at the stoplight. Fall Out Boy drifted out and Natasha Beddingfield came on, and Lance couldn't help the grin that split his face. Talk about a throwback.

He followed Hunk down the road, words to _Unwritten_ spilling from his lips unbidden, and sped up just enough to pass Hunk and Pidge, flipping them off as he did so.

He beat them to Allura's by about two minutes and he and Pidge squabbled the whole way to the door, where Coran met them to prop open the door as they dragged their first boxes inside. Allura was at the landing of the stairs, wearing jeans, flip flops, and a paint stained t-shirt. Her hair was plaited back into braids and pinned to her head in an elaborate pattern that not only looked gorgeous, but kept her hair out of her face.

Beautiful and functional. Allura in a nutshell, really.

"There are about six available rooms on the second landing," Allura informed them, nodding to the top of the stairs. "They all have individual bathrooms, so you don't have to worry about that. It's up to you which ones you want. Coran and I have cleaned them all thoroughly and laid out bedding in all of them, just in case."

"You," Hunk declared, stopping to settle a hand on her shoulder while Pidge and Lance bolted up the stairs, "are a goddess."

Allura flushed and followed him up the stairs, Coran staying behind to watch their cars and make sure nothing was stolen.

Lance and Pidge popped from room to room, bickering playfully about who would get what. Hunk ignored them and settled pretty quickly on the room closest to the stairs. It was one of the largest ones, painted a pale-yellow color with massive (bulletproof) windows and a fire escape. Allura informed him that it was not safe to be on unless it was an emergency, but that he could use it for plants if he so pleased, which he did.

It was set up simply enough; the door opened into the far left corner of the room, the fire escape directly opposite. The bed was snug with the wall to the right of the door, a desk situated under one of the biggest windows. The dresser sat nearer the bed, with a closet door just next to it, and the shag carpeting under Hunk's feet was a deep, rich brown. The bathroom door sat on the left hand wall between the main door and the fire escape, and it was flanked by bookshelves on both sides.

Allura left him to situate the room to his liking, noting that the shouting from Pidge and Lance had quieted down considerably.

She found Lance two doors down on the opposite side of the hall, in a room that was slightly smaller than Hunk's. It had fewer windows, but she knew immediately why he had picked it: in the far right corner of the room, there was an alcove where the ceiling was replaced with plexiglass, perfect for curling up and stargazing.

The walls in this room were a soft baby blue, and the floor was wooden. She had a feeling it would soon be covered in throw rugs. They seemed like Lance's style.

His bed was a queen sized, as they all were, and was centered perfectly between the two main windows in the room, headboard flush with the far wall and a nightstand on either side. The dresser was directly across from it, to the right of the door, and a vanity sat just next to that. A desk ran along the right wall and, similar to Hunk's room, bookshelves flanked the bathroom door.

Lance himself was tossing bean bag chairs into the empty alcove, and he looked up when Allura poked her head in. His smile grew. "Reading and stargazing. Might set up my folding chair in the empty corner too."

She tilted her head. "Did you look at the bathroom?"

"Oh hell yeah. Seating in the showers? What did I do to deserve you, Princess?" he teased.

Allura grinned. "You stole my bracelet."

"Point."

She left, shaking her head and chuckling, and made her way to the very end of the hall, where Pidge had claimed her room. It was the smallest of the three, which Allura found mildly amusing, but she didn't comment.

The walls were a soft green, light in color, with vine decorations up the edges. Allura had painted the room herself in her free time, and the vines had merely been a fun thing she added last minute. She was pleased that someone appreciated her work.

Pidge's bed was elevated from the floor a considerable amount, to the point where Allura was certain she would need some sort of stool to climb onto it. It was pressed into the darkest corner of the room, flush with the wall that ran along the hallway. Under the windows, Pidge had situated her desk and dresser, the top of the latter now covered in scattered rocks and gems that looked suspiciously expensive.

Her bathroom bordered the far wall, one bookshelf next to it and the other shelf next to the door Allura was standing in. This left the wall adjacent to the main door totally blank, and Pidge was standing in front of it, her tongue peeking from her mouth.

"Planning something?" Allura asked, kicking one foot up on the door jamb and leaning against the frame.

Pidge glanced sideways at her, tongue disappearing and eyes lighting up. "Yeah! There's enough space here for all my science stuff, and my hacking equipment. I might need an extension cord or two, but it should work."

Allura smiled warmly. "Wonderful. You know that Coran has devoted the entirety of the spare bedroom downstairs to technology?"

"What? No!" Pidge yelped, eyes going wide.

Coran popped in next to Allura with no warning, scaring the woman nearly half to death. "I'd be pleased to show you, once you're all moved in," he offered, his tone dripping with hints. "Hunk and Lance have gone down to get more of their things."

Pidge gave them a sheepish smile. "Right. Sorry."

She pattered past the duo, leaving them to follow, and Coran shot Allura a look. "You all right, Princess?"

Allura pursed her lips, tilting her head and listening to the sounds of laughter coming from the bottom of the stairs as the trio of friends collided with each other. "I'm…wonderful, honestly. It's been so long since…"

She shrugged, gesturing to the space around them, and Coran hummed, lifting a hand to squeeze her shoulder. "I understand," he said. He smoothed down his mustache. "It's been a while since you've had company other than myself."

Allura bumped shoulders with him and stood at the top of the steps for a moment, staring down the curled bannister at Pidge and Lance, who were picking up their fallen things while Hunk took up a position at the door. "And I love your company," she assured him. "But…"

"They're your age."

"Close enough to it, anyway," she murmured, glancing back at Coran. She gave him a small smile and lifted her hand, tweaking the corner of his mustache. "Race you down the stairs."

He squawked as she bolted past him, flying down the stairs, using her grip on the handrail to fling herself around the corners without even touching the steps. Coran was one step ahead of her, however, and she saw it on the last turn, the way he vaulted the level above her and landed with a "thump" on the ground directly in front of her, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"That," Lance said from where he was standing and gaping in the entry, "was awesome."

Coran dusted off his jacket. "Yes, well, no doing that until you've had more training."

"I grew up with four brothers and sister and one time I jumped off the roof of the house and into the neighbor's tree," Lance remembered, adjusting his grip on a box and starting up the stairs. He tossed a grin back at them. "I'd kick your ass."

Allura stifled a giggle, nudged Coran in the ankle, and then ventured outside to help with the unloading.

* * *

 _Varkon's Café and Bakery. May 12th. 7:14 pm._

"Keith, my man!" Lance shouted as they stepped into the dining area, remarkably quiet without all the college students studying for finals. "Hit me up with an espresso!"

Keith lifted his gaze from behind the counter, face blank but eyes twinkling ever so slightly. "Hello, and welcome to Varkon's," he said in a dry voice. "Please have a seat anywhere and one of our servers will be with you momentarily."

Lance stuck his tongue out at him. "You're the worst."

He ushered Coran and Allura to a booth against the windows while Hunk ran to check his schedule for the next two weeks and Pidge checked out the new pastries in the display case. Allura tugged at her beanie, gnawing her lower lip. "Lance, are you sure-?"

Lance gave her a reassuring smile. "Come on, Allura. You guys never go out anywhere with us. Coffee and dessert is on me tonight."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had switched from her paint covered shirt to a light pink sweater and Converse, and Lance had handed off his teal beanie for her to wear when she insisted on covering her hair. Lance knew she didn't like being in public, was paranoid about people finding out who she was.

But this was also the first official day of summer break, and he wanted to celebrate it with the two people who had quickly become his family.

Keith sauntered over, chatting amicably with Pidge while they walked, and waited politely as Hunk returned from the kitchen, phone in hand. "You guys getting food food?" he asked, fiddling with his pen and eyeing all of them.

Lance waved a hand. "Just desserts. And coffee, too. Celebrating schools release of us."

Keith gave a small smile. "Online school never ends," he said, shaking his head. "You're lucky."

Pidge wrinkled her nose. "Gross. You know my order."

Keith clicked his tongue, giving a short nod. "Key lime. Yup. Double espresso shot?"

"Yup yup."

Allura looked at her, flabbergasted. "It is nearly 7:30," she protested.

Pidge shrugged. "Need a quad to keep me up."

"That is…mildly concerning."

Keith snorted and jotted something on his pad before pointing the end of the pen at Lance and Hunk. "Oreo crème for both of you, Lance an Americano with two pumps of vanilla, and Hunk, chocolate chip frappe?"

"Yup," they both chorused.

He jotted the notes down, not that he really needed to, and then turned to Coran and Allura, warm smile still on his cheeks. "Annndd you two. I don't think we've met. I'm Keith. Hunk's manager."

"Friend," Lance coughed into his fist.

Keith's eyes glimmered a bit and he shook his head. "What can I get you two? Or do you need a minute?"

Coran piped up. "No coffee for me. You have tea?"

"Of course."

"Perhaps a nice ginger brew, with some lemon? And a blueberry muffin, if that's all right."

Keith's eyes crinkled at the corners as he scratched the order down. "Of course. A name for that?"

"Coran."

The smile faltered ever so slightly but returned in a flash, Keith glancing up with a tilt of his head. "That's an interesting name," he noted.

"Family name, unfortunately."

Keith chuckled at that and turned to Allura, who was glancing over the dessert menu. "And you, Miss?"

She pursed her lips, lowering the menu. "The strawberry torte sounds good," she said sheepishly. "And um…as for a drink…just a decaf coffee? With uh…hazelnut? If you have it?"

"Yes ma'am. And your name?"

"Allura," she said after a moment's hesitation, handing the menu back over.

Keith's scratching paused for just a second, and then he was taking the menu from her, shooting them all a grin. "I'll grab those for you guys, and Acxa will have the food out in a bit."

"Thanks man!" Lance shot after him as Keith left.

Keith gave him a wave and then vanished into the kitchen, slumping against the door and lifting his notepad to stare at it. Coran by itself would have been one thing, as would the name Allura. But both of those names? _Together?_

He twisted, looking out the little window in time to see the group burst into laughter, and his eyes roved over Lance, Hunk, and Pidge-his friends. Keith shut his eyes and thunked his forehead into the wood.

"Shit."

* * *

 **Don't get attached to the house.**

 **Reviews?**


	10. Trying to Keep My Distance

**Chapter 10: Trying to Keep My Distance**

 _ **Surrender,**_ **Walk the Moon.**

 **What was that I said about not waiting a month to update? Jesus lol.**

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. May 12th, 2016. 9:37 pm._

"You're certain?"

Keith ducked his head and nodded once, staring hard at his feet while he waited for Zarkon to finish reviewing the security footage from Varkon's. "Yes, sir," he said softly.

When he glanced up, Zarkon was scowling at the screen, at Allura and Coran, specifically, and then he turned his gaze on Keith. "Do you know where they are staying?"

"No, sir."

"But you are friends with the group they came with? One of them is an employee, if I recall."

Keith nodded. "Yes, sir."

Zarkon snapped his fingers and an aid, dressed in a police officer's uniform, rushed to his side. "Find them," he snapped. "We have the big one on file. You will bring him to me, and so help me, I will get their location out of him if it is the last thing I-"

"Sir!"

The man snapped his mouth shut so fast that his teeth clacked, and his eyes nearly burned Keith on the spot. His voice was tight when he spoke. "What, Kogane?"

Keith swallowed. People didn't usually interrupt Zarkon and live. "I…I can get close to them," he offered, brain running a mile a minute. "Infiltrate their ranks, find out if…if Voltron is-"

"Do NOT."

He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders. "Sorry, sir. But if they have started the gang once more…perhaps I can obtain intel? Gain their trust, and determine their end goals? If we end them now, we'll have no way of knowing if they have allies that will come for us."

Zarkon ran a hand over his chin, dark eyes glinting as he pondered Keith's words. "Fine. Dismissed, Officer Pongpatipat."

The man saluted and left without commenting, leaving Zarkon to eyeball Keith. "If you betray me, Kogane, you and your mother will regret it immensely. Find information on them, people we can use against them. Dismissed."

Keith bowed and exited the room as quickly as he physically could, hightailing it back to his and his mother's quarters. He tiptoed past her room, knowing that she pulled early mornings and so she fell asleep early at night.

His room was small in the grand scheme of things, with only a bed against the back wall and a dresser and desk set into the adjoining one. The whole space was lit by warm purple lighting in the floors and ceilings, activated by a switch next to the bed. All in all, it was barely ten square feet.

Keith sighed and shut his door, leaning his head back against the wood and taking a moment to breathe.

He didn't want to give Zarkon leverage on his friends. He could honestly never recall a time when he had friends, but now that he had them, he didn't want them in danger. If that meant getting rid of Allura and Coran, so be it.

He shed his jacket and tossed it onto the back of his chair, swiveling it out with one hand and sinking into the worn leather. He flipped the lid of his laptop up and squinted against the brightness of the screen as he opened his web browser and got onto Facebook.

Because of his affiliations with the Galra, the majority of Keith's page was barren. He had his basic information, a selfie of him at the Grand Canyon as his photo, and a couple of photos of himself and his mother throughout the years on his page. He used it mainly to research potential Galra targets. None of the older members had quite figured out how he managed to find people so quickly, and he wasn't about to tell them and lose part of his value to Zarkon.

He searched for Hunk first, unsure as to whether or not that was the name he used on social media. But after two clicks, he found him easily, his profile picture featuring him, Pidge, and Lance at a water park wearing goofy sunglasses. He scrolled through, pulling out a piece of paper to jot down the information he found.

Two moms. No siblings. One blood related uncle and aunt, one on each side of the family. Three cousins from his aunt, all younger. She lived in California, he lived in Nebraska. Other than that, Hunk had no immediate family members that he spoke to regularly.

Aside from Pidge and Lance, Hunk's main friends appeared to be a group from his engineering class, Nyma and Rolo, and some girl that he had way too many cutesy selfies with for her to just be a friend, Shayla.

Keith scratched all of this information down and then clicked the "Friend" button before switching over to Lance's page.

Lance had significantly more relatives. Mother, father, four older siblings, six young nieces and nephews, seven aunts and uncles, sixteen cousins, three grandparents-Keith's hand cramped writing it all down.

The vast majority of Lance's friend pictures involved Hunk and Pidge, unsurprisingly, and Keith was startled when he came across one taken at Varkon's that featured him very prominently in the background, sticking his tongue out at the group. He couldn't help but smile a little, despite the guilt coiling in his gut.

Hunk's acceptance of his friend request came right as he sent one out for Lance. He switched to Pidge's page, noting briefly that her full name read as "Pidge Katherine Holt." He didn't question it, but when he got to her page, he was startled to see how barren it was. Save for tagged photos, Pidge rarely posted anything herself. Considering how tech savvy she seemed, Keith was surprised at the lack of content.

He clicked around her page for a second before finding her "about."

Mother. Colleen Holt. Father and brother. Samuel and Matthew.

Keith frowned, staring at the names. Something about them rang a bell. He jotted the names down, sent Pidge a friend request, and then shut his laptop and headed out, page clutched in his hands.

His feet carried him down the hall and to Commander Thace's room, where he knocked tentatively.

Thace was in charge of communications and outposts of Galra members that were stationed in other gangs around the city. They had one in every spot save for Voltron, which was no longer in existence, and the Olkari gang, which ran the parks system. Because they were so far on the outskirts, and incredibly intelligent and deadly, Zarkon had declared them untouchable by the Galra.

Thace had also been with the Galra since Keith was a child and had acted like the father Keith had never known. He had been in his late teens when Keith was born, and aside from Lotor and Acxa was the closest to Keith in age. That, however, was shrouded by his dad-ness. He had babysat Keith as a child when his mother was on runs and missions, had taught him how to fight, how to steal, how to survive if necessary.

Keith went to Thace with most of his problems to begin with, but this particular inquiry was right up Thace's alley.

"Come in!"

The doorknob twisted easily in his hand and Keith stepped inside, glancing up from his notes to find Thace kicked back in his desk chair with his feet on the desk and an embroidery wheel in his hands. He was teased mercilessly for the hobby, but Keith understood; with all the drama and the violence that he had to deal with on a daily basis, it was nice to have a quiet and more mundane activity when you came back to base.

Thace himself was incredibly tall, nearly seven feet, with soft brown skin and hair that was styled in what Keith liked to call "The Wolverine Look." He was notorious for being soft spoken but deadly. He dressed like a middle aged father working at Target, in various colored polos and khakis, but he knew how to kill someone seventeen different ways with just a spoon. Sitting in a chair with a needle in one hand and a half-finished pillow case decorated with intricate, tiny flowers in the other, however, he didn't appear that way at all.

Upon seeing Keith, Thace set down his work and sat up straight. "Keith! Good to see you. What can I do for you?"

Keith lifted the paper, suddenly feeling a little stupid. "Uh…I was working on the…the case, that Zarkon wants me to look into."

"Ah yes. The Voltron one, I take it?"

Keith glanced up, eyebrows lifting. "You've heard?"

"I'm in charge of communications, Keith," Thace said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Keith flushed and bobbed his head. "Right, right. Um…so I was looking through the profiles for the three young adults, one of them who works for Varkon's? And he's fine, and the other guy is chill, but the girl, she goes by Pidge…her father and brother are on her page, but not recently. Their names sound familiar, but I can't place them."

He handed over the paper, pointing at the names, and the moment that Thace took them in his face tightened. "Oh. Oh, this isn't good, Keith."

Keith's stomach plummeted. "Why?"

"Katie Holt," Thace read off, slamming his feet to the floor and spinning in his chair to open his laptop. He pulled up the surveillance feed from the headquarters, filtering through various images while he talked. "Daughter of Sam and Colleen Holt. One older brother, Matthew. Both Matt and Sam were cops, Sam a detective and Matt on his way to becoming one, with the Altean Police force. Both graduated from the Garrison Police Academy. Went missing while undercover, searching for leads on Zarkon. Presumed dead as of late 2015."

"Oh," Keith said in a small voice. He ducked his head, fidgeting with the tail of his shirt.

"They're not."

Keith's head shot back up and he stared, mouth dropping, as Thace pulled up the security feed of the holding cells in the very basement of the Galra headquarters. Keith had never had reason to go to them, having never dealt with the criminal division, but he knew what they were for: rogue Galra, which were rare, or prisoners from other gangs, which were usually used to trade for their own prisoners.

In the particular cell that Thace had stopped on sat two men. One was clearly younger than the other, but it was obvious that they were related. The younger of the two was fiddling with something in his hands, a Rubik's cube, Keith realized, and the older one was laying back in his bed reading a book. That was unusual; usually prisoners didn't get amenities beyond meals.

As if Thace was reading his mind, he answered. "They both receive mild activities, nothing that can allow them to fight back or escape, for their cooperation. They've been here for over a year. Matt is well trained in combat, and we have him train some of the younger members of the group. His father is intelligent, and is used to figure out police routes, timings, the like. If they refuse…Katie and Colleen are threatened."

Keith felt the blood drain from his face. "Zarkon knows they exist."

"Yes," Thace answered, his voice grim. "However, the file photos we have of her and Colleen are fairly outdated. No one knows the name she goes by that you have uncovered, and as of this moment, only two people know that she may be involved with Voltron: you and I."

Keith's heart thudded. "You're-"

"Telling you not to say anything about her being related to two of Zarkon's most valuable prisoners, yes."

At Keith's incredulous look, Thace tisked and turned back to his laptop, shutting it and slumping at the desk. "Keith, I don't recommend that you make outside friends."

"I haven't-"

Thace shot him a look and Keith shut his mouth, looking away. "It is clear to me that you care about these three, even with the brief things you've said to me about them all. It is…impossible to maintain relationships, platonic or otherwise, if they are outside of the Galra. Especially once Zarkon is aware of them."

His tone had lowered, and Keith glanced up to see the man glaring down at his desk. A realization slammed him in the face. "Who were they?"

Thace lifted his eyes to look at him, the anger and depression in them warring with each other. "He…it doesn't matter. He's dead now."

His breath hitched and Thace pursed his lips, looking away once more. "What I'm saying, Keith…is that if you want them, that is fine with me. I will not stop you. Nor will your mother. But Zarkon will. He must think that this is purely professional for you. Otherwise…"

Thace sighed and picked up his embroidery again, thumbing the hanging thread. Keith watched silently, digging his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. "Otherwise?"

The man glanced back up, gaze heavy. "They will die, Keith."

* * *

When he returned to his room that night, Keith found fifteen new Facebook messages waiting for him on his computer.

 _Group Chat: OMG Keith Isn't a Recluse_

 _Lance (Ladies Man): DUDE_

 _Lance (Ladies Man): YOU EXIST OUTSIDE OF VARKONS?_

 _Lance (Ladies Man): !_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): why is this so surprising to you?_

 _Lance (Ladies Man): Cause I stg the only time we ever see him is when we go bug him and Hunk at work_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): Yeah can you stop that btw there are STILL people whining about your impromptu karaoke session_

 _Lance (Ladies Man): Not my fault they don't recognize talent_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): it's a café, Lance, not a bar._

 _Lance (Ladies Man): Everything is a bar if you bring drinks_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd) has changed Lance's name to 'The Drunk'_

 _Lance (The Drunk): rude_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): To be fair you do drink the most out of all of us_

 _Lance (The Drunk): um excuse we don't know how much Keith drinks_

 _Lance (The Drunk): so you could be very wrong_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): come on, man, Keith is literally the quietest person I know_

 _Keith (MIA): Actually I'm quite evil when you get down to my roots._

 _Lance (The Drunk): HE LIVES_

 _Lance (The Drunk): WHAT uP_

 _Keith (MIA): What the heck happened while I was gone?_

 _Lance (The Drunk): Um you literally friended all of us at once and then LEFT? Jerk_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): He means that in the nicest way possible_

 _Lance (The Drunk): no I don't_

 _Lance (The Drunk): Keeeeeiiiiiitttthhhhhhhhhhhhhh_

 _Keith (MIA): Yes?_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): do you want to go get food with us later this week? we're going to a carnival at the pier on Saturday_

Keith sat back from his computer, eyeing the words and pulling his fingers away from his keyboard. The pier was probably safe, seeing as their running gang, the Nalquad's, usually avoided the Galra at all costs. They didn't know what Keith looked like, and they wouldn't be policing a public fair very heavily.

His stomach coiled in pleasure at the idea of going somewhere with people he genuinely liked, and then clenched in fear when he remembered what Thace had said. Still, this could be a good opportunity to get close to Voltron, to Coran and Allura especially. His laptop dinged and Keth glanced back up.

 _Lance (The Drunk): Keeeeiiiiittthhhh did you die?_

 _Keith (MIA): Not yet, unfortunately_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): asdfjklsaldhakjdda amazing_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): Yeesh_

 _Lance (The Drunk): What is your answerrrrrrrrrr stop being emooooo_

Keith found himself chuckling, cheeks warm as he typed out an answer, pleasure curling in his gut that he promptly forced down.

 _Keith (MIA): I'm down with going to a fair. Just so you know, I don't do spinning rides. I have a weak stomach for flying in circles._

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): Me too! We can be designated bag holder buddies together._

 _Keith (MIA): Lol works for me. What time and where should I meet you guys?_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): We'll meet you in the parking lot near Klyzap's Pier. The one with the stairs leading down to the water front._

 _Keith (MIA): Sounds good._

 _Lance (The Drunk) has changed Keith's name to 'Emo Mess'_

 _Keith (Emo Mess): You say that like you're kidding_

 _Pidge (Neeerrrd): omfg_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): You're all the worst_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi) has changed the chat name to 'Pier Buddies'_

 _Lance (The Drunk): Hunk that's such a boring name_

 _Hunk (Golden Boi): Let me live, Lance._


	11. Amusement Park

**Chapter 11: _Carnival Hearts,_ Kayla Diamond. Literally looked up songs with the word carnival in the title and I wound up actually loving this song. **

**New drinking game: take a shot every time I apologize for not updating in a month. You won't get drunk super fast, unless you happen to be binge reading this lmao.**

* * *

 _Klyzap's Pier. May 14, 2016. 3:43 pm._

Keith pulled into the first available spot he found in the parking lot, turning his motorcycle off and swinging himself off of it. He pulled his helmet from his head, tousling his hair with one hand while shoving the helmet into the storage compartment of his seat. His eyes scanned the fairgrounds, searching for his group, as he shoved his keys into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

He had just started to send out a group message when he heard a low whistle from behind him. He twisted around to find Lance, Pidge, and Hunk behind him, all eyeing his motorcycle with varying degrees of surprise and glee.

"Dude," Lance said, voice low. "Nice fucking ride."

Keith smirked. "Thanks. Was a gift from my mom on my 17th birthday."

"Your mom gave you a motorcycle?" Hunk asked in surprise. "My moms barely let me take the car that I own out from time to time."

Keith chuckled and strolled over to them, tugging at the cuffs of his fingerless gloves. "Yeah, well...she knows I can handle myself, I guess."

That was an understatement, but no one really said anything, so Keith didn't elaborate. Instead, Pidge turned to the watch on her wrist and, as Keith looked on in surprise, pulled up a touchable hologram of a calendar. "The fair closes at 11 tonight so we have a bunch of time. I suggest lunch first, and then a few quieter rides until our stomachs settle, and then the fun ones."

"Quieter rides can be fun!" Hunk protested.

"What is that?" Keith blurted, eyes still locked on Pidge's wrist.

Pidge hesitated, glancing back down at the device, and then up to Keith again. "Uh...I invented it? It's like a wrist computer, basically. In my watch. Better than the shit Apple came out with last year."

The Galra had nothing near that advanced in terms of research tech. Weaponry, yes, but not research, which, some would argue, was even more important than weaponry. Keith swallowed and offered a grin. "That's...really cool."

Pidge eyed him for a beat too long, and Keith kept the somewhat forced smile on his face. "Thanks," she said finally. "It's not perfected yet, which is why I haven't patented it."

"Enough nerd talk," Lance jumped in to whine. "Let's goooooo I want a funnel cake!"

He dragged Pidge off by the hand and Hunk rolled his eyes, gesturing for Keith to follow along. He did so, a sinking pit in his stomach. It was bad enough that Zarkon knew Pidge existed and used her to leverage Matt and Sam.

But if he knew how intelligent she was, what she had invented? Keith shuddered to think of what might happen.

"Hey, dude," Hunk murmured, falling back to stand next to him. "You good?"

Keith jolted and shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking of his fingers. "Just uh...a little out of my comfort zone," he said sincerely. "Not a big fan of crowds."

Hunk hummed like he understood and bumped Keith's side in a gentle way. "Well, if you need out, let us know. Pidge gets the same way sometimes, especially when..."

He trailed off, eyebrows crinkling, and Keith glanced over at him. "Especially when what?" he asked, a few ideas already running through his head.

Hunk shook his head, his eyes tracking Lance and Pidge as they darted around the food trucks, eyeballing and calculating the differences between menus. "That's not for me to say, sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. Just saying, no one is gonna be upset if you have to step away for a few seconds."

Keith decided not to press the matter and instead nodded, grateful for any excuse to step away for a moment. They caught up with Lance and Pidge, who were bent over Pidge's watch scrolling through a small hologram of a list of prices and food quantities

"So, we can get three funnel cakes and eight hot dogs for the same price as four funnel cakes and four burgers, but we both know that I don't eat funnel cake and you don't do sesame seed buns, and because this is a fair and not a fast food joint they probably don't have substitutes, so it's reasonably safer and more cost effective to get the hot dogs."

"Not to mention," Lance cut in, scrolling through her screen, "upgrades on the dogs only cost an extra dollar each, but on the burger it's two for more than just ketchup and pickles."

Pidge glanced up at them and her face brightened. "Keith! What do you like more, hot dogs or burgers?"

Keith pursed his lips, glancing between the trucks. "Uh...I'm down with both. I don't want to spend a whole lot of money, so the cheaper option is probably better."

Despite being assistant manager at the store, Keith was only able to keep 75 percent of his salary because of Zarkon's demand for rent money. Most of what was left went to his phone bill and his private savings account He had the hope that one day, Zarkon would decide he had done enough for him and let him go live outside of Altea. He wanted to be ready to leave as soon as possible, but if Zarkon caught him with a savings account filled with thousands of dollars, he would think that Keith was attempting to run. And he most likely wouldn't survive that.

Lance collected money from all of them and then went with Hunk to purchase the food from the truck, leaving Pidge and Keith to find a table and sit.

They were silent for a moment, and then Pidge spoke. "I saw you and Hunk talking. Everything okay?"

Keith shifted in his seat, crossing his right leg over his left and sitting on his hands. He looked down at the table, picking out the stray splinters and food stains with his eyes. "Just...mentioned that I'm not a fan of crowds. Might have to step away sometimes if I'm overwhelmed."

PIdge hummed, glancing back at Hunk and Lance, who were edging closer to the front of the line. People around them chattered amicably, drowning out quieter noises. "I get that," she admitted after a moment. Her fingers gripped at the table, tips turning white. "I uh...sometimes have to do that too."

Keith tilted his head. "Hunk mentioned."

Pidge's eyes shot up and Keith held up a hand. "Didn't say why. Just...mentioned it because he wanted me to feel okay doing the same."

The girl relaxed a little and Keith lowered his hand again, settling it under his thigh. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to seem angry, it's fine, I just-"

Keith shook his head. "You don't have to-"

"No, it's okay," Pidge promised. Her head ducked lower and her fingers started tapping rapidly at the table. "My dad and brother uh...went missing a while back. Sometimes there are just...things I can't mentally handle. Like, it reminds me too much of them or whatever, and I get panicky, 'cause I don't know if they're even dead or not but-"

"Hey."

She clipped her mouth shut and looked up at Keith, eyes glassy. He gave her what he hoped was a gentle smile. "You don't have to go further. It's okay. If I can help at all...let me know."

Pidge's shoulders slumped and she gave him a weak grin. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Yoooooo fuckers, who's ready for FOOD?" Lance bellowed, bouncing up to the table with his arms overflowing with junk.

Hunk elbowed him so hard he almost dropped the six hot dogs he was carrying. "There are CHILDREN here, Lance!"

Lance's grin didn't waver. Instead, he set down the hot dogs and flopped next to Keith on the bench, flinging an arm around him. "Keith, my man! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!"

"What do you want?"

"We forgot to get the ketchup!"

"No."

Pidge snorted and proceeded to down half a hot dog in less than fifteen seconds while Hunk set down his hand of food and ventured back to the truck to grab ketchup packets for everyone. Lance slid a funnel cake and a fork at Keith and then followed Pidge's example, albeit a bit slower.

Keith waited until Hunk came back, accepting a couple of packets and dousing the dogs in them before eating.

There was silence for approximately four and a half minutes while everyone ate, broken when Lance set down his last hot dog wrapper, let out an impressive belch, and then pulled out a map of the fairgrounds. "Okay!" he declared, laying it out and slapping a ketchup packet down on the food truck area. "Here's where we are. Here is where all the games are, and here are the rides, and the flea market is down on the pier and some of the docks. Also, there's a house of mirrors, but that's lame, so I assume we're skipping that."

He glanced up, an eyebrow raised, and Keith found himself nodding despite the fact that he had never been in a house of mirrors and thought it could be kind of fun. Lance took that as a go-ahead and started circling things with a pen that he must have materialized out of thin air.

"Sweet. Okay, so we can do games for a bit, since our passes let us do unlimited games, and then move on to the smaller rides, which we have about six passes each for. So, six rides per person."

Hunk nodded to the docks. "What about the flea market? A lot of the stuff is handmade crafts, it'd be good for supporting local artists. I think Nyma and Rolo have a booth."

The names rang a bell in Keith's head, and he recalled that those were some of Hunk's university friends. He knew what Rolo looked like, had seen his picture on Facebook, but he didn't recall what Nyma looked like, so he could only assume her picture hadn't been online.

"Okay, we can do that between rides, to let stomachs settle," Lance declared.

Pidge chucked her wrappers over her shoulder without looking, making the trash can with barely an inch to spare. Keith nodded in appreciation and they stood, tossing the rest of their garbage out and heading for the rides.

The next hour or so flew by in a blur for Keith. They took on the Ferris wheel, played skeeball, and ventured to a couple of the arts booths. At some point, Keith found himself alone with Lance while Hunk and Pidge worked diligently on a trivia-based game.

Keith wouldn't call either him or Lance dumb, but neither of them was a trivia person. They walked silently for a bit, until Lance's face suddenly brightened. "A shooting game! Come on!"

He sprinted towards it, leaving Keith to trail behind with a small smile on his face. "Five, please," Lance said to the guy manning the booth.

He was given five rounds (not actual bullets, of course, but pellets) and was instructed to hit the ducks as they passed. Certain ducks were worth more, some worth none at all, and if he hit the black one on the very top, which only went around once and was faster and smaller than all the others, he automatically won.

Keith wasn't anticipating much.

But then the buzzer rang and the tension eased from Lance's shoulders. His fingers shifted on the gun, holding it like it was second nature, and he lifted the butt so that it rested on his shoulder.

The first duck went down with a thud, a high pointer, small, towards the back. Keith jolted at the hit, eyes flashing to Lance and then back to the game just in time to watch a second, even higher point bird go down.

The black one came flying from the side with no warning, so fast that Keith barely noticed it, and there was no way that Lance could-

 _Crack._

Blue lights started flashing and happy music rang from the speakers as the black duck fell. The man running the booth blinked in surprise and then grinned. "Nice one," he declared. "That's a hard one to get."

He handed over a bright blue lion and Lance took it with glee before turning back to Keith. His smile faltered a little. "What?"

Keith swallowed and shot his eyes back to the game. "You're...a really good shot."

Lance flushed and shrugged like it was no big deal. "Eh. Been hunting with my dad for most of my life."

It sounded like a lie, though Keith was sure there was some truth to it. Keith dropped the subject and gave a sheepish grin. "I'm not much for shooting. But..."

He eyed the alley and landed on a dart game and he smirked. "There we go."

He darted ahead of Lance without warning and slapped down a single dollar on the table. Lance sidled up to him and lifted a brow. "Dude, you know you only get three darts for that, right? And you need to hit three to win."

The balloons in question were set about eight feet from where people stood. Keith ignored Lance and took the darts from the attendant, something in him insisting that he needed to prove himself to the man next to him.

"Whenever you're ready," the attendant droned.

A smirk twitched at Keith's lips and he flipped the dart around in his hand, ripping the feathers from the shaft and then lifting it by the point. The attendant spluttered in disbelief, but Keith kept his focus on the bright red balloon ahead of him.

He flicked his wrist, sharp, firm, and the first balloon popped. He ripped the phony feathers from the other two with no hesitation and hit the other two balloons with barely a second's pause. He slapped down two more dollars, took the red hippo from the end rack, and nodded at the guy. "Buy some actual darts that won't wobble, would ya?"

He stalked away before the man could respond, Lance scurrying after him. Keith caught him eyeing him and lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"Where did you learn...?"

Keith chuckled. "To throw? I like to uh...knife throw in my free time."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

They both laughed and rounded the corner to find Pidge and Hunk walking towards them, Pidge carting a kiddie wagon absolutely loaded with various science equipment. Lance snorted. "I take it you two won?"

They fist bumped. "Killed it," they chorused.

Keith smiled and hugged his hippo close to his chest, watching Lance congratulate them. His smile faltered a bit as he remembered what he was supposed to be doing: gaining intel on them. On Voltron. This couldn't last. He couldn't let them get hurt. Allura and Coran were the ones Zarkon needed, not his friends. And as soon as they found out who he was, what he was, this would all be over.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jolted, looking up to find Lance studying him. "Hmm?"

"We were saying how we wanted to move on to the rides. That okay?"

Keith licked his lips and glanced over at Hunk and Pidge, who were dividing prizes between them. "I...sure. Like I said, not much of a ride person so..."

"You can hold Azul, then."

Without warning, Lance shoved the lion into Keith's arms and took off, dragging Pidge behind him. Hunk took the cart and walked over to Keith, shouldering Pidge's satchel. "Shall we go sit and watch them vomit?"

Keith gave a smile. "Yeah. Sounds like fun."

They ventured over to a set of benches that were in the prime middle of the fairgrounds, where they could watch Lance and Pidge debate between rides. Keith settled down at the end, assembling his hippo comfortably in his lap and then glancing at Hunk, who was dragging the wagon between his legs and under the bench so that it was out of the walkway.

"Think they'll live?" Keith joked tentatively.

Hunk snorted and sat up straight. "Hopefully. They might be dumb, but they're not stupid."

Keith eyed the wagon. "Yeah, that's definitely true. Can I...ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Where did Lance really learn to shoot? He said it was hunting but it felt like he wasn't telling the truth."

Hunk snorted. "Oh no, he definitely did. He just practices a lot more now."

"Now?"

Hunk flinched and glanced down at his hands. "Uh..."

"Come on, Hunk," Keith groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "We both know that we're hiding something from each other. Spill."

Hunk lifted an eyebrow and shot Keith a side glance, jaw tense and posture closed off. "You first, then."

Keith frowned and clenched his hands into his hippo. "I grew up on the streets with my mom. Dad walked out when I was two. So I'm...really good with knives, like really good, and pickpocketing, stealing...stuff like that. I didn't say anything because it felt like...I don't know, like you guys would hate me for it? But then you picked that guy's pocket and Lance is an incredible shot and Pidge has that computer and it...makes me wonder."

He side-eyed Hunk and bit his lip. Most of it was true. His father had abandoned him, though it was because Zarkon had killed him. He knew all of the things he told Hunk he did. Now it was just a matter of if Hunk would believe it.

Hunk was staring at the ground, twisting his shirt hem in his hands. "Lance learned the gun stuff from his parents. But he's been practicing. I've been practicing. He taught me how to pickpocket, too, ages ago. Mostly for petty, childish stuff. Pidge isn't great at that, she fidgets too much. But she's good at all the...look, you're a great guy, Keith. But I don't know if I can-"

"Yo! Losers! Stop being laaaammme!"

Pidge came flying over, crashing, giggling, into Hunk's lap. Lance followed, a grin on his face and a slightly dazed look in his eyes. "We went on the teacups TWICE," he declared.

Hunk shot another look at Keith and then back at Lance. "You didn't puke and leave it for some poor worker, right?"

"Nope!" Pidge confirmed, slumping to the grass. "Let's go again!"

"No," Hunk said, his voice flat as he caught her by the back of her shirt. "Not doing that."

He pushed himself to his feet, Keith following, and practically shoved Pidge at Keith. "You hold her. I got Lance. C'mon, you two, let's find the Merry Go Round."

Lance flopped all over Hunk. "That's STUPID."

"By the time we get there, you'll be back to normal. Come on."

He dragged Lance away, wheeling the wagon behind them, and Keith situated Pidge so that she was leaning on his shoulder before tagging along after them. At some point, Hunk leaned into Lance and whispered something to him, and after that, Lance seemed to perk up and calm down a bit more.

Pidge stopped stumbling and eventually stopped leaning on Keith all together, instead walking alongside him comfortably. "Don't do rides, huh?" she said, a teasing note in her voice.

Keith flushed. "I don't like spinning. Is all."

"Just didn't wanna sit with Laaaannnccce."

Keith's eyebrows shot up. He had never once heard anyone say a name like that, mockery underlying their normal tone, an almost sing-song quality to the word. "What the fuck was that?"

Pidge poked him in the side, eyes glittering behind her glasses. "Come on, you guys go off and play games and then get all pal-y?"

Keith just stared at her, baffled, and Pidge's face suddenly dropped, her cheeks going a bit pink. "Sorry. I thought..."

Something about her tone clicked in Keith's head and he stopped in his tracks, nearly doubling over with laughter. "Oh my god," he wheezed. "You thought-?"

Pidge scowled. "Yeah, I did, jackass. I didn't think you were the asshole type."

Keith flung a hand out and caught her wrist before she could storm away. He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a dick. "No-no," he managed, shaking his head and letting her pull her hand back. "No, I'm gay. Very gay."

She relaxed a little, though the color didn't leave her face. "Then why-?"

"Me and _Lance?"_ Keith asked incredulously, finally standing back up and tossing her a bewildered grin. "Not a chance, I barely even know him!"

"I don't know Chris Pine but my god, that man is pretty."

"Point."

"You two! Get your asses-"

"LANCE, CHILDREN!"

"-BUTTS, EXCUSE ME HUNK. Get your BUTTS over here! We're riding this freaking Merry Go Round!"

Keith nudged Pidge with his elbow. "Race you."

He took off at a sprint, Pidge shouting in protest. "ASS!"

"YOU GUYS!" Hunk whined.

* * *

At some point, the sun started to sink. They didn't notice this until the vendors on the docks had started packing up for the night, and though the fair was open until 11, they had been there for nearly six hours and done everything they could afford.

Pidge had found a laptop case, hand embroidered with vines and leaves. Keith was surprised when she picked it up, but Lance informed him that the girl adored plants-succulents, specifically.

"They're small, like her."

"Fuck off, Lance."

Hunk had purchased several single, mismatched earrings which, once again, surprised Keith, until the man swept a strand of hair aside and revealed that he had one single piercing in his left ear. Upon asking, Hunk had grinned and said, "I felt bad for all my mom's mismatched studs. So I just got one hole so that I could wear them."

Lance's purchase was the only one that didn't surprise Keith. He had picked up a handmade bracelet with a carved dolphin along the top, paid ten dollars more than the requested twenty, and slipped it onto his wrist, which was cluttered with various hair ties.

Keith had found a customized knife case, a small one, and he bought it without hesitation because of the swirling, fiery red pattern that splashed over the front of the case. He didn't feel comfortable whipping out his blade right in the middle of a family friendly fair, so instead he tucked it into his drawstring and slung it back over his shoulders.

He found Hunk and Lance at Rolo's table, talking to the guy animatedly while Pidge was practically on the ground drooling over an itty-bitty robot holding a spoon.

Hunk spotted him first. "Keith! This is Rolo! He's in my class."

Keith nodded to him and then gestured at the robot. "Did you make that? What does it do?"

Rolo snorted. "Not a chance. My girlfriend Nyma made it. It basically just holds silverware and then it can bring it to you if you call for it. His name is Beezer."

"He's great for people with physical disabilities who maybe can't reach or stretch or walk super well!" came a young woman's voice.

Keith turned and his blood ran cold. The smile that had been on Nyma's face – he knew he had heard her name before – faltered ever so slightly before it was back full force, slightly clenched this time. No one else seemed to notice the tension.

Nyma was a thief for hire, a hit woman, and an incredible engineer, and Zarkon had hired her multiple times. Keith had only met her once, when he was about 16 and she was 19. She had been assigned to a target that Zarkon had ordered Keith to hunt down, and they had worked side by side for two days to find the guy, who had stolen money from Zarkon.

She had hit on him, which was creepy just because of their ages, and when he had blurted out to her that he wasn't actually into girls, she had gone stone cold. He didn't think she hated him because he was gay; Keith was convinced she hated him because he had the guts to reject her. Which made this particular meeting incredibly tense – she had the opportunity right there to expose him, who he was. Even if she didn't know exactly what he was doing, she knew enough to know that the Galra didn't socialize for fun.

"It's a...really cool robot," Keith managed.

Nyma pursed her lips. "Thanks. Come here, I have another one that I can show you."

It wasn't a request, so Keith followed Nyma to the other end of the table, leaving Hunk and Rolo to go back to chatting and Pidge back to squealing over Beezer. Lance was standing nearby, at a different table, his eyes on some kind of coin purse.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Nyma hissed, kneeling to pull out the robot she had mentioned. It was a tiny thing, barely bigger than the palm of Keith's hand, and it formed a perfect pyramid.

Keith scowled. "I'm enjoying the cotton candy, what the hell do you think I'm doing here?" he muttered. "I'm on assignment."

Nyma cussed and stood back up, planting a smile on her face and handing over the robot. "Don't blow this for me."

Keith whipped his head up to look at her, eyebrows crinkling. "What?"

Her eye twitched and she stared down at the robot. "I'm trying to start over," she muttered. "Getting back into art and science. I needed out, and he gave it to me. Don't drag me back in."

"I'm not here to- wait, Zarkon let you _out?_ " Keith asked, eyes widening.

Nyma tilted her head in acknowledgment. "Yeah."

His mouth went dry and he shook his head. "He doesn't just let people go, Nyma. Not unless they do something for him. What did you do?"

Her jaw clenched and she took the robot back from Keith, eyeing the mechanics. "I designed...I designed something for one of the inmates. It was my last project before I left. I got word from one of my friends inside that...that particular inmate is gone."

"Like...Zarkon killed them?"

Nyma lifted her gaze, searching his face, and something about him must have set her at ease, because her shoulders slumped. "He escaped."

Keith hesitated, glancing down at the table and running his fingers over a piece of fabric. "And Zarkon blames you," he said quietly.

"He blames my tech," Nyma confirmed. "And that was enough for him to let me out. He didn't want it happening again."

"Nyma, you know he-"

"I know," she said, her voice soft and her face going slack. "I know it's only a matter of time. But I'm just...trying to get my shit together before it happens, so that Rolo doesn't..."

She glanced up and over at her boyfriend, and Keith could see the slight tremor in her chin. He had never seen Nyma be anything other than a hard ass, so watching her start to break was freaky. She turned back to him and steeled herself. "I just don't want to have to go sooner than anticipated. So if you could-"

"I won't."

"Thanks, Kogane."

She set the robot down and they stepped back over to the group, which now included Lance. Keith watched the way Nyma slipped her arm around Rolo's hip and he suddenly felt awful for the young woman. "Um...how much for that little guy?" he asked, pointing to the tiny robot that he had been holding.

Rolo brightened. "Rover? Not much, like fifty bucks! He's like a floating Siri!"

Pidge promptly bounced to his side. "Oh my fucking god. Keith! I want him!"

Keith chuckled and dug into his wallet, pulling out a hundred bucks with a sinking sensation in his gut. "He's worth way more than that," he said in a quiet voice, handing over the money.

Rolo practically tripped over himself getting a box for Keith, and when he glanced back up, Nyma was studying him thoughtfully, a grateful twinkle in her eyes. "Appreciate it," she said, double meaning in her words.

He took the box and stepped away after handing it off to Pidge, tucking his hands into his pockets and feigning interest in the other vendors. A hand lighted on the small of his back after a beat of silence, and he forced himself not to spin and flip the person behind him.

"You good, dude?" Lance asked.

Keith relaxed at the sound of his voice and shrugged. "Just...wanted to step away. People."

The hand retracted and Keith had the sudden, absurd thought that he wanted Lance to put it back. "Should I go, then?"

Keith turned his head enough to look at Lance, offering a soft smile. "Nah, it's all good. Just can't do...strangers, I guess. Too much. Friends are okay."

Lance's eyes glittered and Keith bit down on his tongue when he played back what he said, cheeks flushing as he ducked his head to finger the bandana in his fingers. "Awww, sappy Keith is so nice!"

"I will stab you."

* * *

 _Klyzap's Pier Parking Lot. May 14th, 2016. 9:07 pm._

When Keith got back to his motorcycle after a quick bathroom run, it was fully dark. Which was why when he couldn't find his keys immediately, he didn't panic. He assumed that he had just switched pockets. But after a few moments of searching, his stomach started to coil.

His keys were gone. His keys-

 _Crinkle._

He pulled out a folded-up piece of paper that most certainly had not been there at the beginning of the day. His heart thudded as he opened it up, delicate, swirling handwriting that he recognized as Hunk's from the man's impeccable order slips on the page.

 _78 Valerian Street. 10:30. Check your storage compartment._

His breath hitched and he glanced up to where the others had parked to find their spot empty. He turned to his bike and flipped open the storage area, shoulders slumping at the sight of his keys glittering inside his helmet.

His brain flashed back to when Lance had touched him, the way his hand had sat low on his back, near the edge of his jacket, and Keith whistled a low, long note. Damn. He hadn't felt or seen a thing. That was professional level pickpocketing.

Keith eyed the paper again as he pulled on his helmet and straddled the bike, plugging the address into his phone. It led to a seemingly abandoned warehouse in the center of the city, but he knew instinctively that that definitely wasn't what it was. This note wouldn't be in his pocket in the first place if it didn't matter.

He was holding the address to Voltron headquarters.


	12. Breakin' In

**Chapter 12: _Anti-Gravity,_ RUNAGROUND**

 **Wow, I'm updating everything this week, aren't I? This was one of my favorite chapters to write (so far lol...more to come that are far more angsty), and it's fairly long, so a bonus!**

 **rinpiesweet: Thank you! Don't worry, you haven't technically seen the last of Nyma and Rolo. And I promise, Shiro will be here soon lol.**

* * *

 _Smythson Street. May 14th, 2016. 10:13 pm._

Keith parked his motorcycle a block away from Valerian Street, at the corner of Smythson and Pearl. He pocketed the keys and glanced back at the address and his phone, the blinking dot on screen indicating his position. He followed the little blue line down the street and around the bend, watching as his dot got nearer to the location marker until finally he was on top of it.

He breathed a shaky sigh and closed out of the app, shoving his phone into his pocket and glancing up at the decrepit looking warehouse in front of him. It looked like it was falling apart, but Keith knew first hand that looks could be deceiving.

First impressions mattered, so Keith reached his arm around behind his back and clung to the handle of his knife, given to him by his mother when he was still a toddler. It was too big for him then, but now it settled comfortably into the palm of his hand. He climbed the stairs off to the side of the building and tapped a couple times on the door, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

A tall man with a shock of orange hair both on his head and on his face answered the door, and Keith instantly released the grip on his knife, breath loosening. "Coran?"

Coran blinked and the tension fell from his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Keith? What are you doing here?"

"We invited him," came Lance's voice from somewhere inside.

"You did _what?"_

That was Allura, Keith could tell. For the moment, he played sheepish. "I...I should go. I didn't realize-"

"No."

That was Pidge, and she came to the door and grabbed him by the wrist, tugging him past Coran and into the room. It was large and open, in a way Keith hadn't expected, but he didn't have much time to admire it. Everyone was standing in what appeared to be the living space, Allura with her fists clenched and Lance and Hunk at the ready.

Pidge stayed firmly by his side, and though she only came up to his shoulder, she was a solid, reassuring presence. "Keith is a good guy. We know this."

"Well I barely know him," Allura snapped. "All I know about him is that he is Hunk's boss, we don't even know if he can defend himself!"

Keith frowned. "I can defend myself."

She scoffed. "You're scrawnier than Lance."

"Hey!"

Keith tisked and shook his head, and in seconds had Pidge pinned to the floor on her stomach, knife hovering under her chin and a knee on her back. His grip was firm but gentle, a stroking thumb to her wrist letting her know that he had absolutely no intention of hurting her. His ears pricked as Coran's footsteps sounded behind him and he twisted fast, knee and left hand still holding Pidge down and right hand pointing his knife at Coran's chest. The man hesitated, eyes flickering, and Keith knew he was looking for the weak point in his stance.

There was one, Keith had balanced himself the way he had on purpose, and he let Coran sweep his right foot out from under him so that he tumbled off of Pidge into a smooth backwards somersault, where he proceeded to spring back to his feet and dip into a sparring stance.

The room was silent, Pidge sitting on the floor still and rubbing her wrist, eyes wide. Coran stood poised in front of him, hands twitching at his sides, and Hunk and Lance were holding Allura back.

Keith sheathed his knife calmly and leaned down with over-exaggerated movements, offering a hand to Pidge and pulling her off the floor. "I told you," he said softly. "I can defend myself. I don't know why I need to prove that, but I can."

Allura eyed him carefully, tension easing from her body, and then returned her look to Lance and Hunk. "You're certain he's safe?"

"Positive," Lance promised, his voice soft. "Look, we need him. We need the extra eyes tonight."

"He's got a point," Coran noted, straightening back up and crossing his arms over his chest. "They are vulnerable in the right."

Keith frowned. "Wait...what?"

He was genuinely confused. They were talking like they had a mission, and the idea that the three of them-

Shit.

 _Shit._

Keith's mouth suddenly needed an entire gallon of water and it took his whole being not to cuss out loud. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance weren't just friends with Allura and Coran, they didn't just know about Voltron.

They were Voltron.

"Look, long story short," Lance started, pulling Keith from his internal panic, "we...kind of started the Voltron gang back up. Allura's father used to be the leader. We've been digging up intel on the Galra, and tonight at the fair Hunk and Pidge located a guy who has a warehouse structure at the corner of town."

Pidge tilted her head towards Lance. "He's one of the main dealers of weaponry and based on what I pulled from him today at the fair, he's got a massive shipment coming in tonight. If we can stop it, we can keep the Galra from getting their paws on almost six dozen semi-automatic weapons."

Keith knew exactly who she was talking about, and the name spilled from his lips before he could think to do otherwise. "Zethrid. She's not a he."

Everyone whipped around to look at him and he swallowed. "Uh..."

"How could you possibly know that?" Allura demanded.

Keith swallowed and glanced away. "Um...my father...when I was a kid, he was taken by the Galra. He was an uh...he was an engineer, and they wanted him for something. I haven't seen him since. So I've been...I've been keeping tabs on the Galra my whole life. I know a lot more than I probably should. Zethrid runs a bar on the West end of town during the evenings, with her partner Nartina. Narti. She's blind, so I think it gives off this illusion of them being really helpless? B-But I caught them in a deal once, while I was out getting a drink. They didn't see me."

All of what he had said was true. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, staring at the floor while he waited for them to say something.

"I'm sorry about your father, Keith," Allura said finally, and there was sincerity in her voice. He glanced up to find her right in front of him, arms wrapped around herself. The sleeves of her pearly white sweater covered her hands, giving her an innocent look that he knew was completely false.

He offered a small smile and rubbed his arm, glancing sideways at his friends. "Yeah, well...if I can help..."

Lance jumped into the conversation, a grin on his face. "Dude, are you kidding? This'll be so much EASIER! You know the person, you know where to go, you-"

"Hold on," Pidge protested. "Lance, there's tons of security. We can't just-"

"I know the code."

Everyone turned once again to look at him, eyes wide. Keith shrugged, giving a half smile. "Told you, I caught them in a deal one night. I know the code to get in. At least...the outside code. I don't know if there's an inside one."

Pidge lifted her arm and pulled up her computer, fingers tapping at the air and swiping through dozens of diagrams and blueprints. "It looks like there are. There's also cameras everywhere that we can only take down for a few minutes before an alert would go out. That's not nearly enough time for us to get into the compound and steal everything."

"How were you planning to do it before I showed up?" Keith asked.

Pidge cringed. "We had the idea to set a fire, so that everyone would be forced out and the guns would be destroyed."

"But that amount of ammo in a fire..." Hunk finished, spreading his hands rather than finishing his sentence.

"Lance mentioned brining you in before the fair today, and by the end Hunk and I agreed," Pidge said.

Keith looked over at Lance, startled, to find the man eyeing him thoughtfully, his posture relaxed and his eyes gentle. "Why me?" he finally asked.

Lance's gaze flickered up to him. "You caught Hunk pickpocketing. That's hard to do, considering I taught him almost everything he knows. And you're a good guy. And you can fight. Hunk mentioned that you grew up learning how to do that."

Keith held his tongue and shook his head, peering over at the blueprints that Pidge had pulled up. "What about there?" he asked, pointing to a maintenance panel outside the warehouse. "Would that work?"

Pidge hummed and zoomed in on it. "No cameras inside the shafts, could get you anywhere, easy access to the roof and the basement if necessary...problem is, it's small. Like, really small. I was already staying back to help Coran with surveillance and stuff, and Allura is in the getaway car..."

Hunk pointed over her shoulder, tracing the side road that led off onto the main highway. "I can stand guard there. That way you have eyes on all of the roads in and out. That was our problem before, because initially Lance and I were going in. But if the shaft is too small, then we have the extra set of eyes on here to keep watch."

"Keith, if you're comfortable with small spaces, you and Lance can-"

"I didn't agree to anything yet," Keith protested. "Is this a one-time thing? Do I get to be a part of whatever this is? Or am I just being used?"

"You're in," Lance said immediately, his eyes steely. "If you want to be."

"Part of Voltron?"

They all nodded and Keith took a shaky breath, rubbing his hands up and down his pants to hide just how much they were sweating. "Yeah," he finally said, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm in."

* * *

 _Interstate 772. May 14th, 2016. 11:56 pm._

"These outfits are dumb," Lance declared, tugging at the dark spandex hugging his skin.

Keith, across from him, seemed unfazed. His arms were crossed over his chest, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his eyes shut. "They're meant to help us blend in with the vents, Lance."

Lance huffed and fell silent, letting the rumbling of Hunk's car soothe him into a quiet state of mind. Pidge, Allura, and Coran were ahead of them in Allura's mom van, which had been refurbished to work as a mobile tech unit. He allowed himself the guilty pleasure of eyeing Keith in his outfit.

The black spandex was a one piece that clung all the way from the neck to the ankles and wrists, thicker around the abdomen and groin and with padding at the joints that Lance thought felt suspiciously like Kevlar. They had both been given a pair of soft black boots that laced up to their calves, and Pidge had designed them both communication devices that wouldn't pick up the Galra's frequency and alert them to their presence. The mic was small, and in-laid in the collars of their suits. Lance's cuffs and neck were decorated with a simple blue "V" that he assumed stood for Voltron. Keith's were red.

Keith, when you got him out of his typical jacket, had incredible biceps that Lance assumed came from years of martial arts and knife fighting. He had long legs, nearly as long as Lance's, and the way the spandex shaped his thighs made Lance have to swallow and glance away.

Lance was comfortable with himself, with his sexuality, but he had no way of knowing if Keith would be. He thought that he'd be all right with him, but Keith gave off a closed aura, one that felt hard to dig into. Even with all that he had told them, Lance felt as if he was holding back.

"We're here," Hunk said softly, pulling Lance from his thoughts. "I'm parking two blocks off, so we need to walk the rest of the way."

"Copy that, buddy."

"We should get code names," Hunk mused as they climbed from Hunk's car and ventured over to Allura's, where Pidge had swung open the trunk and was now handing off their weapons. "Like, Lance could be...Sharpshooter. Or something."

Lance chuckled and shook his head, crossing his arms. "No, no, no. Pidge is Short Stack, Keith is Mullet, Coran is Stache, Allura is Princess, Hunk, you're Bro, and I'm Hot Stuff."

Pidge chucked his weapon at him. "Yeah right, asshole."

Lance caught his thermos shaped item and flipped it up, eyeballing the length of the gun and double checking the mechanisms on it without retorting. He caught Keith staring and gave him a weak grin. "Uh...does Keith get anything?"

Allura pursed her lips. "We left in such a rush, I couldn't grab an appropriate weapon. I'm sorry, Keith. I also just..."

"Don't trust me," Keith said, tilting his head. "I know. It's okay. I've got my knife, plus, we'll be in the vents. Hopefully we won't need to do anything fighting wise."

Lance clipped his folded-up rifle onto his hip. How it attached, Keith couldn't tell. There was no Velcro, no strap, nothing. As if reading his mind, Pidge answered. "Kinetic attachments on your thighs, calves, and arms. That way you don't have to fumble with straps or anything."

Keith took the throwing stars that Lance offered him and held them out near his thigh, pressing them to the fabric there. Sure enough, they stuck. The outfit didn't feel any heavier. "They won't fall?"

"Nope!" Coran declared. "They can only come off if pulled by the person wearing the suit. Our best engineer and scientist designed them a while back."

Keith hummed and moved his knife from up his sleeve to the outside of the outfit, pressing it against his forearm. It stuck securely and he gave a thin smile. "Cool," he breathed.

His phone buzzed against his hip and Keith winced. "That's...probably my mom. I told her I would be back by 10."

"Go ahead and answer," Allura assured him. "We need to set up anyhow."

Keith stepped away and pulled the phone to his ear. "What?"

"Where are you, Kogane?" Sendak growled.

He turned away from the group and clenched the phone tightly. "Working. A case."

"On Voltron?"

"Yes. I'm close. Tell Zarkon to stay away from the West Side weapons exchange site tonight. It'll force all of them to trust me, and I'll be in."

Sendak huffed into the receiver. "He won't like that, Kogane."

"I don't really give a shit. It's only one exchange site, we have dozens of others. This is only a seventh of what we're getting tonight."

"If he kills you, it's not my fault."

The dial tone rang in his ear but Keith kept the phone up, spinning on his heel and plastering a smile to his face, speaking louder than necessary. "Yeah of course Mom. I'll be home. All right. Love you, bye."

He clipped the phone to his thigh and returned to the group. "She thinks I'm hanging out at your house," he informed Lance. "I told her I'd be home, but she said no rush."

"Cool. You can always crash at base if you want to," Lance offered, digging through a bag. "Pidge, where are the communicators?"

Pidge glanced over at him and tisked. "Damn. Front. Come on."

She lead Lance around the front of the car and Allura nodded to the woods. "I'm going to go clear brush to put the van in," she informed them.

Allura and Coran went off, leaving Hunk and Keith alone, situating themselves with various pieces of equipment. For a moment, they worked in an awkward silence, and then Hunk spoke. "You didn't have to lie to me, you know," he murmured.

Keith glanced up. "What?"

"About your dad," Hunk clarified. He shifted the strap of a backpack and glanced up at Keith, eyes glinting. "You could have told me that the Galra killed him."

Keith swallowed and glanced away. "It's uh...it's not something I like to talk about," he mumbled, rubbing his jaw. "When you say that someone's dad walks out, no one ever brings him up again cause they think you don't like him for it. If you say he was probably murdered by a notorious gang, they never leave you alone."

Hunk hummed and didn't respond, merely stood up from the back of the van and shouldered his bag, nudging Keith gently with his elbow in a friendly way. Keith managed a small smile and glanced up as Lance and Pidge came back. Pidge handed him an earpiece. "It connects via Bluetooth to the mics in your suits. You guys good to go?"

Keith glanced up at Lance as he situated his ear piece, nodding. "Yup."

Lance pulled the wire down and connected it to his collar before following suit. "Let's do it."

* * *

The walk up to the compound was silent, with Lance taking the lead and Hunk and Keith falling behind. They left Hunk at the bend leading up to the warehouse, where he ducked his way into the trees and vanished into the darkness. He was startlingly good at it; the moment he stilled, he was untraceable by the naked eye.

Allura's voice rang in their ears. "Timers set for twenty-seven minutes?"

Lance and Keith both lifted their wrists, eyeballing the watches on them. 12:25 am. "Copy," Lance murmured.

Keith shot him a side glance and tilted his head. "Copy," he repeated, a little softer.

"That's how long you have before we can no longer keep the outer camera's off. On Coran's mark."

"Ready...steady...go."

They bolted, feet light on the ground, Lance taking the lead and eyeballing the map set into the tablet Pidge had handed him. It was small, about the size of his palm, but worked faster than a smartphone or a typical tablet. "Cameras are down," he reported in a quiet voice. "Keith, outer code, so that we don't trigger any alarms?"

Keith ducked in front of him and let his fingers dart over the keypad set next to the door. Lance kept an eye on the program in his hand and, the moment Keith hit the star symbol, the map flickered green on the outer edges.

"Good."

"Twenty-six minutes," Pidge said into their ears.

"Road is clear," Hunk informed them.

Lance eyeballed the vent, just high enough that he'd have to stretch for the bottom screws, and clapped the tablet back to his thigh. He removed the screwdriver Pidge had given him from his pocket and tilted his head.

"Do you need a lift?" Keith whispered.

Lance shook his head. "Watch my back."

He clamped the screwdriver between his teeth, scanned the wall one more time, and then reached up, gripping the edge of the brickwork with the tips of his fingers and pulling himself up.

"What the fuck?" Keith hissed. "How-?"

Lance shook his head, sweat beading on his skin, and grabbed for another small hand hold. The fabric of his suit helped; the friction clings held to the wall when in contact with it, so it was more of a matter of twisting his body in the right way to have that happen.

When he was eye level with the middle of the vent he paused before unscrewing the panel, giving himself a second to breathe. He let the screwdriver fall to the ground before he had the last screw all the way out, where Keith picked it up and pocketed it.

"Heads up."

He lowered the vent with shaky fingers, clinging to the brick wall and struggling to keep the sweat dripping down his face out of his eyes. Keith grabbed the cover and leaned it against the wall, and Lance swung back to pull himself through the hole. Keith pressed his leg up to give him momentum, and then Lance turned back around inside the vent and leaned out at the lower chest, a hand out. "Let's go."

Keith grabbed Lance's hand with both of his and Lance yanked backwards, pulling Keith up while Keith simultaneously climbed the wall with his feet. Once his hands were inside the vent, he released Lance with one of them and pulled himself up the rest of the way.

For a second, they both just laid in the vent, chests heaving and bodies covered in sweat. They were lying head to foot, and Lance had the sudden absurd thought that he was going to have to turn around in the cramped space.

"You guys okay?" Pidge asked.

"Peachy," Lance muttered. "Just trying to breathe."

"Breathe faster," Allura ordered. "You're down to twenty-three minutes."

Lance heard Keith's breath hitch, and he thought he knew why. They had just done all of that, breaking and entering, in less than five minutes. He managed a weak chuckle and propped himself up on his elbows, looking down the vent's shaft. "Map's uploaded?" he asked.

"Affirmative," Pidge assured him.

"Let's go, Mullet."

"You are not calling me that," Keith muttered.

"Fair enough. You gotta go first, though, so that I can turn around."

Keith shuffled forward and Lance swung around nimbly before pulling himself after him. Pidge had been right. The vents were ridiculously small. Next to each other, Lance and Keith were pressed shoulder to shoulder in an uncomfortable way. Lance kept slightly behind Keith, moving the tablet to rest on his forearm so that he could keep an eye on where they were going. The only talk between them for the next four minutes was directions, until finally they reached the purple marker that Pidge had set onto the map.

"Once you're in," Pidge murmured, "you'll have about seven minutes to either change the shipment's deposit location or cancel the order. After that, people show up."

"Copy that," they said in unison.

"What about camera's?" came Hunk's concerned voice.

There was a brief moment of silence and Pidge sighed. "I don't know. I can't tell if they're off or not. Lance, Keith, can you see any potential blind spots?"

They peered through the vents, Lance crawling up so that they were squished together, and scanned the room. Lance counted four cameras that he could see, and none of them looked like they had a blind spot.

Keith, though, pointed. "There," he murmured. "The camera's rotate, so we have about twenty seconds to get out of this vent, and then five seconds to get to the console."

Lance shot him a look, eyebrows lifting. "How did you-?"

Keith tossed him a weak smile. "I'm good at counting. I just...that's our best shot, I think. I-I could be wrong, of course, but-"

"We don't have time," Allura snapped. "Do it. We're here if you need backup."

Lance dragged his eyes away from Keith. "Copy. On your mark, Billy Ray?"

There was a brief pause, and then Keith thunked his forehead onto the floor of the vent. "I fucking hate you."

Lance grinned and turned his attention to the vent, removing the screws with precision and putting them into his pockets. Keith lifted his head while he did this, keeping a close eye on the cameras. His fingers tapped out the seconds, until Lance was holding the vent on with just his fingers. "Just say-"

"Now."

Lance pushed a breath out and shoved the grate out from the wall in the same motion. They were only a few feet off the ground, so he rolled with the momentum so that Keith could get out from behind him. He twisted back, counting the seconds in his head, and pressed the vent grate back to the wall, using two of its screws to hold it in place. The second he hit twenty, they bolted to the console, sliding on their feet and nearly crashing into the console and each other.

"Five," Lance breathed.

Keith huffed and turned to the console, eyeballing it. "Okay, Pidge, what now?"

Static.

Lance frowned. "Pidge? Hunk? Allura?"

Keith cursed, slamming a hand down on the control panel. "This room must be blocking any outgoing or incoming signals not compatible with the tech."

Lance pursed his lips and glanced at his watch. "We have six minutes and 43 seconds to do this. And that's if we don't get caught on camera before then."

Keith huffed and let his hands hover over the console, his eyes scanning the keypads. "Then let's turn them off."

He moved his fingers across the keys, typing rapidly, and Lance could only watch in surprise as the cameras shut down one by one. Keith turned to the order panel with no hesitation, pulling up the screen that had the shipping information for the shipment on it. He paused, glancing back at Lance. "What now?"

Lance shook his head, swallowing down the unease in his gut, and leaned over the console, reading the instructions. "Drop off point. Change it. There's a dock near the police station. We can call ahead and-"

"The police are corrupt."

Lance shot Keith a look of surprise and Keith flinched. "What?"

"The police," Keith said again, voice soft. "The Garrison officers. They're corrupt. Not all of them, but...a lot. I've seen some of them here."

"Shit," Lance muttered. He looked back to the console and slammed a fist down. "Shit. So Pidge and Matt's-?"

"No," Keith said firmly. "Like I said, not all of them. But enough that if we send the gun dealers to them, the Galra will still get their hands on the weapons. Our best bet is to destroy the shipment."

"Destroy...there are people on that ship, Keith."

He shook his head and pointed, dragging Lance's attention back to the screen. "Captain, one first mate, two armed guards. That's it. They're all up front on the ship, according to the docking plans, so all we need to do is take out the back half. An explosion in the woods takes out miles, but an explosion contained on the water would most likely go down and out instead of up and out."

"You're talking about blowing up a ship," Lance managed.

"We have the equipment."

"Who the fuck are you?"

Keith shot his head around to look at Lance, eyes anxious, and Lance swallowed, looking away. He chose his words carefully. "I just...you were so hesitant on this an hour ago, and now you want to blow people up."

He watched Keith swallow. "I just...don't want anyone to get hurt. And these weapons will do that. So I just...I don't know, you grow up on the streets, and it becomes easier to think about the big picture."

He flexed his fingers and pulled them back from the monitor. "We could try something different, if you want," Keith offered.

Lance licked his lips and glanced at his watch. "Five and a half minutes," he murmured. "I...there's not time, is there?"

Keith frowned, flipping through information on the screen rapidly. "No," he admitted. "We either confront them here, or take them out there."

Lance huffed and started pacing, digging his hands into his hair and tugging at the strands. "Fuck. Fuck, okay. How long until they hit dock?"

"Maybe ten minutes. Less, probably. All we can do from in here is shut down the security and the cameras long enough for us to get out without going back through the vent system. We both have maps, so it should be fine."

"We don't know where the people in the building are, though, Keith," Lance protested.

Keith hesitated, and Lance watched the muscles on his back roll as he hunched forward. "I...get the feeling no one is here. This was too easy."

Lance pursed his lips and lifted his gun off his hip. The unease was back in his gut. "Even so, what if-?"

"We don't have time, Lance."

Lance studied Keith for a moment and then jutted his chin at the console. "Do it. The cameras and alarms, I mean."

Keith's fingers flew across the board and the moment he was done, he unsheathed his knife and joined Lance at the door. "Let's go. We have four minutes until the cameras are all back on. Should only take us two to get outside."

Lance led the way, gun cocked and aimed, and Keith was directly behind him, keeping an eye on their tail.

It was an eerie kind of silent, and Lance didn't like it in the slightest. He jumped at every sound, every touch, and when they reached the door unseen and unscathed, he lowered his gun warily. "That was too easy," he noted, echoing Keith.

Keith's face didn't change. Instead, he pushed the door open.

"-in two minutes, we're storming the place."

"Hunk," Lance breathed. "We're here."

A clamor of voices hit their ears and both men winced. "Guys," Keith croaked. "Not now. We only have a little bit before this boat docks. Allura, do you and Coran have any kind of grenade launcher?"

There was a startled silence, and then Allura spoke up. "Lance's rifle can act as one...why?"

"We're blowing the boat up," Lance said. His eyes were caressing the waterway, the lapping waves, and guilt was etched into every corner of his face. "We don't have another option."

"Pidge will run them out to you," Coran offered. "A minute, tops."

"Copy. We'll set up on the bank," Lance informed him.

He trudged down to the edge of the water and crouched in the reeds lining the bank, lifting the sight of his gun up and dragging it across the horizon. He stopped facing North East and his shoulders relaxed. "Found it. It's getting closer. The boat is dark, though."

"Probably to stay inconspicuous," Keith said, kneeling next to him. Lance shifted a bit to give him room, drawing his limbs away from Keith without a sound.

He pulled back and glanced away, dark hair falling in a curtain around his cheeks. "I know this isn't what you want to do," Keith murmured. "But I just...I can't think of anything else. This is important."

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

Keith looked up at him, surprised. "What?"

Lance swallowed and peeked back over his shoulder, searching the ground for Pidge. "Voltron. I know this wasn't what you signed up for when you agreed to come to the fair today."

Keith shook his head. "I agreed to come to the fair because I like you guys. I agreed to do this...to maybe be a part of Voltron...because it's the right thing to do. The Galra have taken too much. And it's...nice to be around people again. Aside from my mom."

Lance gave a thin smile and then whipped around again as footsteps reached his ears. He held a hand out and Pidge skidded down the bank on a heel, depositing three pellet looking items into his hand. Lance observed them for a moment. "These are really small," he noted.

"Don't have to be big. Not with the explosives on that ship. One or two properly aimed hits should take the whole thing down," Pidge informed him. Then, a little softer: "Are there people on the ship?"

Lance loaded one into the gun and took aim, using the blueprint of the boat Keith was holding for him to choose the best spot. "I think so," he murmured.

And fired.

For a moment, nothing happened. The only sound was frogs in the water's edge and the screeching of cicadas in the trees. Lance pulled the gun back to load another pellet in, certain he had missed, and then the sky blew up.

Keith had been right; a good portion of the boat exploded down, sending streams of orange into the water. A lot went up as well, though, flames engulfing the hull of the ship and useless weapons scattering into the water. Lance didn't hesitate, merely aimed at an emptier spot of the deck and fired again.

More flames, the sound of a thousand firecrackers, and the boat started sinking. He took aim with the last one, fired, and the surface of the water steamed and bubbled as the ship sank fully. The fire stayed on the surface of the water, flickering against the black of the sky, and suddenly the air felt too quiet.

Sirens blared in the distance, and Lance found that he couldn't move. A gentle hand gripped his forearm and he looked around to find Hunk there, eyeing him. "Come on, buddy. We gotta get out of here."

Lance nodded and climbed up after Keith and Pidge, letting the weapon he carried drop down to his side. He clicked the safety on and slumped against Hunk as they walked back to the cars.

Allura and Coran didn't say much, merely bundled the weapons back into their car and sent the four of them off to Hunk's.

Hunk climbed into the driver's seat and Lance crawled into the back, Pidge not far behind him. Keith got into the front and tugged his usual jacket back on over his outfit. "Need directions?" he asked, lifting a phone.

Hunk shook his head and started the car, pulling onto the street.

They remained silent until they were back in town, driving through dimly lit streets. Lance leaned onto Pidge, threading his fingers through the split ends of her hair and playing with them absentmindedly.

"I killed them, didn't I?" he asked after a moment.

"We don't know that," Hunk said immediately. "We don't know for sure that anyone was on the boat."

"Boats don't steer themselves," Pidge mumbled. Her hand reached around and clasped onto Lance's, her thumb stroking his skin.

"They probably escaped in a life raft," Hunk assured him. His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel and he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Lance swallowed and set his chin on Pidge's head. He stayed quiet, letting his eyes drift to Keith, to the way he sat curled up in the seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his head leaning on the window. Something was grating at the back of Lance's mind, and he wasn't sure he quite wanted to entertain what that could be just yet.

* * *

 _Voltron Headquarters. May 15th, 2016. 1:32 am._

"-no casualties found on the boat, though search and rescue is still combing the river bed for any signs of people. The boat was unmarked and unregistered, carrying large quantities of weapons of mass-"

Coran shut off the TV and turned back to the group, setting the remote on the coffee table and curling his hands around the steaming cup of tea in his hands. "Looks like there wasn't anyone on the boat after all."

Lance, who was curled up between Pidge and Hunk on one side of the couch, frowned down at his herbal brew. "That doesn't make sense. How could a boat steer itself?"

"Maybe they abandoned ship and ran," Hunk offered. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be caught after people found out that I was delivering unregistered, illegal weapons."

Allura glanced at Keith, who was sitting on the sofa next to Hunk, a cup of coffee forgotten in his hands. He was staring at the floor. "Keith."

He snapped his head up to look at her and she smiled. "Thank you, for tonight. We could not have managed as well as we did without you. I'm sorry I doubted your sincerity. If you'd be willing...I'd like for you to join us permanently. Your own room and everything. Of course, you don't have to stay in it, you can stay with your mother if you'd like, but it would be available to you whenever you would need it."

Keith hesitated, glancing around at all of them. "I...really?"

Coran smirked. "Really, young man. I'll even forgive you for attacking me."

Chuckles filtered through the room, tired, and Keith bit back a yawn. "I...yeah. I'd like that. Um...actually, I'm really tired now, and I don't feel safe driving back to my place at this time of night. Is it okay if-?"

"Of course. Coran will get you some clean sheets and blankets for one of the beds upstairs. Lance, do you-?"

"Yeah, I've got some spare basketball shorts and shit," Lance mumbled, rubbing at an eye. "C'mon, Jesse Ventura. Let's get you some sleep stuff."

Keith huffed a chuckle and climbed off the sofa, bidding a soft goodnight to Hunk and Pidge, who looked like they might both pass out on the couch. He followed Lance up the stairs and to Lance's room, where the young man leaned over his dresser and dug through the top drawer for a moment before pulling out a pair of red basketball shorts and a black t-shirt. "These work?" he asked.

Keith took them carefully and eyeballed the size on the tags before nodding. "Yeah, perfect. Thanks, Lance."

"No problem, Stamos."

He cracked a grin at that. "I don't actually mind Mullet. Even though it's technically not one."

Lance tilted his head, studying the mop of hair on Keith's head, and then shrugged. "Hey, I could be calling you by random hair styles."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't like that, now would you, Bowl Cut?"

"Mullet is perfect."

Lance gave him a tired grin. "Yeah, I thought so."

Keith stepped out of the room, gave Lance a soft goodnight, and then followed Coran to the room he was going to be staying in. It wasn't very large, a queen-sized bed in the far corner and a desk and a dresser on the hallway side wall. The walls were painted a soft burgundy, and Coran handed him a set of dark black sheets with red patterns etched into them. "Bathroom attached to the side, there," he informed him. "I'm down the hall and Lance is next door if you need anything, all right?"

Keith nodded and Coran left him there to set up his bed. He checked his messages when he was done, sending a quick text to his mother to let her know he was staying at a friend's place for the night.

There was one new voicemail from Sendak, and he hesitated before pressing the play button.

 _"Zarkon is pissed, kid. Watch your back."_

Great. Absolutely perfect.


	13. Had I Known

**Chapter 13: _How to Save a Life,_ The Fray**

 **Today I was a mermaid and I wanted to update something and I have had this chapter written since before I even wrote chapter one of this fic (cause sometimes you just gotta write out of order) so here we are.**

 **Ft. Shiro and part one of the many ways I give him angsty introductions to the current cast**

* * *

 _Hearty Bob's Bar and Diner, June 3rd, 2016. Noon._

"I am telling you," Lance protested, kicking at Pidge under the table. "NCIS is the greatest show on the fucking planet and if you don't think so you can suck my-"

Hunk coughed into his fist, a grin quivering on his lips, and Lance stuck his tongue out. Pidge shook her head and flicked a fry at Lance, who caught it in his mouth with a smug look. "Sorry, dude. Prison Break. No one can top it. Tell him, Hunk. Wentworth Miller is a genius."

The larger man shrugged, sipping at his Coke like he was trying to hide behind it. "Uhhh, I dunno. I mean, I agree, Wentworth is the shit. But uh…I think you're both wrong."

"What!?"

"No way!"

Hunk set his soda down and held up both hands in a placating gesture. "All I'm saying is that Cutthroat Kitchen never gets old."

"Oh shit."

"Fuck, you're right."

"Pie?"

Lance whooped and practically tackled their poor waitress, showering her with delight and praise as he carefully removed his Oreo Cream Pie from her tray. "Sheryl, you are the freaking best."

"Say it, Lance, don't spray it," Pidge grumbled, wrinkling her nose and accepting her slice of apple.

"I will spit take on you the moment we walk out of this place, Pidge."

"Oh god, please don't."

Sheryl side eyed Hunk as she handed him his Boston Cream. "Should I take away their drinks?" she stage-whispered.

Hunk spread his hands. "Pidge's drink isn't even alcoholic!" he hissed. Sheryl snorted and grabbed their empty plates, stepping back into the kitchen while Lance leaned across the table.

"She's a baby!" Lance chuckled, waving his hard cider at Pidge tauntingly. The 19 year old stuck her tongue out at him. "That's what you get for skipping a grade, Pidgeon."

"I'm cutting you off, Lance," Hunk declared.

"I've only had-hey, what the fuck?"

Pidge and Hunk spun to see what Lance was staring at, watching as some older woman, probably in her late forties, pocketed the tip that a group of college students had just left for Sheryl. Lance practically growled; they were regulars at the establishment, and Sheryl had always treated them nicely.

Before he could move, however, a young man with a strong build slammed straight into the older woman's back. She screeched and spun, but the other guy had a strong grip on her forearm.

"Oh my goodness, ma'am, I am so sorry!" he exclaimed just loud enough for their table to pick up. He gripped her shoulder's gently, making a big deal of looking her over, and tisked. "I ran right into you! I've gotta get these darned contacts changed, you know what I mean?"

Next to Hunk, Pidge had become rigid, her eyes tracking the man's back, but before either of them could question it, the man was laughing, squeezing the woman's shoulder. "Here, why don't I walk you to the door, ma'am? To apologize."

The woman agreed, seeming smug, and the gentleman turned her around. As Lance watched, the guy's hand dipped straight into the woman's purse and pulled out the wad of cash she had just taken from the table. He walked her all the way to the door and waved as she left.

When he turned around, a shock of white hair not contained in his ponytail fell into his eyes, and Lance tilted his head in confusion as the man approached Sheryl on her way back to their table and handed over the money. "He kinda looks like-"

Pidge bolted.

Hunk and Lance scrambled from their seats, pies half eaten, and followed her in time to see her grab the man by his shirt tail and pull, hard. "Pidge!" Hunk squawked in horror, looking in mortification at the tables around them.

The guy turned in confusion and his face did an odd series of expressions, shifting from startled to curious to shocked to…terrified? Hunk ignored it, shaking his head. "Sorry, sir, I don't know what-"

"Katie."

That froze both boys, and then suddenly Pidge was slapping the guy across the mouth with a resounding _smack_. She was two heads shorter than him, so she had to reach considerably for it, but it didn't dull the hit whatsoever.

The dining room went silent, everyone turning eyes on the young woman in the middle of the room with a quivering chin and the man holding his face in startled shock. Hunk carefully settled a hand onto Pidge's shoulder and handed Lance two twenties. "Put these on the table," he said, voice low. "Meet you outside."

Lance suddenly felt much more sober, and he did as Hunk asked, scurrying out after Pidge and the two men as soon as he was done. They were in a standoff in the parking lot, Hunk with a hand hovering over both their chests and a nervous look on his face, despite the fact that he was taller than both of them.

"You didn't fucking tell me!" Pidge was shouting. Lance jolted at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The guy had the decency to look guilty for whatever it was he had done. "Pidge, I'm-"

"You don't get to call me that!" Pidge snapped. "They said Matt and Dad died, and you were supposed to too, and now you're…you're fucking standing here? Twenty minutes from my house? And you didn't fucking tell me? It's been two fucking years."

Her voice cracked and she jabbed a finger against the man's chest, her tone dark when she spoke again. "My mother and friends get that right. Not you. It's your fault they're missing."

Lance had been looking back and forth between them, eyes wide, and suddenly everything clicked. "Wait…Pidge, is this Shiro?"

"Asshole is more like it," she sneered.

Lance glanced at him, struggling not to let the awe show on his face. "Dude. You were like, a hero on the force. What-?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Pidge scoffed in disgust. "Of course you don't. My brother might not actually be fucking dead, and you-"

"Wait, what? What happened?" Lance asked in bewilderment. "I was inside for thirty seconds, guys."

Shiro held up both hands very slowly, eyes darting between the three individuals in front of him. "Why don't we go somewhere less public?" he suggested, his voice low. "Discuss all of this. You guys have a place somewhere?"

Pidge sneered. "As if I would let you anywhere near my mother."

Hunk laid a placating hand on Pidge's shoulder. "Pidge. It's okay. We can go back to mine and Lance's apartment, okay?"

"Fine."

"You have a car?" Lance asked, shooting Shiro a look.

Shiro nodded and Pidge scoffed, the choking sound in the back of her throat giving away the frustration and depression in her. "Of course you do."

Hunk's tone was firm. "Pidge, come on. We need to hear him out. Here, I have a pen," he muttered, digging into his vest pocket. "Lance, you got paper?"

Lance blinked and pulled out his wallet, digging through it and ripping out an old receipt. Hunk handed him the pen and Lance jotted down their address, handing it to Shiro after a tense moment of silence.

"If you're not there in ten minutes," Pidge grunted, "I swear to God I will hunt you down and tear your ears off."

Shiro scowled, and Lance suddenly noticed the scar crossing his face that most definitely hadn't been there in the photo that had circulated the news after the proclamation of his and the Holt's supposed deaths. "What-?"

"Later, Lance," Hunk whispered, gripping his arm. "C'mon, we gotta get back to the apartment. Pidge, you chill?"

She watched Shiro retreat to his car, her fists clamped at her sides. "Not a bit," she answered, her teeth gritted. "Let's go beat this asshole home."

* * *

Though they stayed with Allura and Coran more often than not, the three paladins had chosen to have places to escape to away from the warehouse, if they so needed. Pidge, not wanting to leave her mother alone, had elected to stay at home part time with her. Lance and Hunk, however, had no such qualms, and so at the end of the last semester, they had found a relatively cheap apartment about ten minutes from both Allura's place and their own homes.

Hunk, of course, made good money working at Varkon's, and Lance had been working the rounds in the local art community, working as a model for drawing and painting classes. He had a part time job at the local daycare as well, working to teach astronomy and science to the kids there, but because it was only open three days a week, six hours a day, he needed other work to help with his portion of the rent.

They made it back well before Shiro, Hunk driving much faster than he normally would have to appease Pidge's soft growling in the backseat. Hunk elected to wait outside while Pidge and Lance went into the apartment.

Up a single flight of stairs, and then down a narrow hallway not much wider than Hunk's shoulders, he unlocked the door and flicked on the lights as he stepped in, letting Pidge pass before shutting the door behind them.

It was a cozy place, that smelled faintly of old books and cinnamon, remnants from the elderly woman who had lived there before them. The door opened into the dining room, which was really just a small space with a round table centered in the middle of it, secured from the local thrift store and paired with some old chairs from Lance's basement. The dining room connected in the back to the kitchen, which was about big enough for two people comfortably.

The dining room branched to the right onto the living room, separated by a small hallway. It was more of a box than a hall, and it contained a single closet and a coat rack. Lance dropped his windbreaker there and shuffled into the living room, the biggest room in the house.

Pidge was flopped on the couch that ran along the left hand wall and curved onto the far one, a plush pillow wrapped in her arms and shoved against her nose. The television, another gift from Lance's parents, stared at her from across the room, and her feet were propped up on the Goodwill coffee table in the center.

Photos of the three of them littered the walls, a few here and there containing Allura and Coran and even Keith, who had started joining them on their outings now that he was a member of Voltron. One portion of the wall was entirely dedicated to family members, and Pidge was snuggled directly under a picture of her, Matt, and Lance playing foosball together.

Lance sighed and moved to sit next to her, slumping close enough that their weight was on the same cushion, but far enough that they weren't touching. He leaned his elbows on his knees and curled his hands together, staring down at the dark wood floor. "Pidge, I…honestly don't know what to say," he admitted. His fingers clenched together tighter and he frowned. "I know this is unexpected, and you're pissed, but-"

"I'm not pissed, Lance," Pidge murmured.

Her voice broke, crackled, and Lance flinched. Angry Pidge, he could handle. But he hadn't seen Pidge truly melt down since the night her brother and father had been pronounced dead, and her tone sounded dangerously similar to that night.

"You sure seemed like it," he tried, shoulders drawing up over his ears. "You…snapped at him pretty hard. I mean, you slapped him across the face in a diner."

Pidge snorted, and Lance glanced over at her to see tears streaming down her cheeks. He scooted closer now, letting their legs press together, and she leaned on him heavily. "I was pissed," she muttered. "And then I just…if he was avoiding us, that probably means that…my dad and Matt aren't…."

Her breath hitched and Lance cursed, dragging her against him with an arm and wrapping the other one around her in a tight hug, settling his chin on top of her head. "You don't know that," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "You do not know that, Pidge. Just talk to him, okay?"

Pidge shuddered and Lance huffed, ears pricking at the sound of Hunk's voice in the hallway. "They're almost here, babe. Pull yourself together."

She sat up and grunted, swiping violently at her eyes and taking the tissue Lance offered to blow her nose. She shoved the tissue into the waste basket under the coffee table and dragged her hands back through her hair once, reaching out and smacking a hand on Lance's knee when he started to move. "Stay," she pleaded, voice soft. "Please."

Lance nodded and squeezed Pidge's hand, dropping it as Hunk's keys twisted in the lock and he led Shiro into the living room, gaze searching the two of them and head dipping in a nod. Shiro hesitated in the doorway, hands twitching at his sides, and that was what drew Lance to openly stare.

Hunk had taken his jacket at the door, like the gentleman he was, and in place of Shiro's right arm was a highly advanced prosthetic that glinted a soft purple in the low light. Lance heard Pidge's breath hitch and he shifted a bit on the sofa, lifting his eyes to Shiro's again, trying to stay polite. "Have a seat," he offered lamely, gesturing to the rest of the couch.

Shiro nodded in what Lance hoped was gratitude and perched awkwardly on the portion of the sofa that ran along the far wall of the room. Hunk sat between Shiro and Pidge, in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness, and Shiro clasped his hands in his lap.

His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail on the nape of his neck, a strand of white falling into his face, and deep bags hung under his eyes. He was wearing a short sleeve black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans and converse, and if Lance hadn't known the significance this guy held in Pidge's life, and his own, he probably wouldn't have looked at him twice on the street.

"I'm uh…I'm sure you're wondering what happened," Shiro said after a long, awkward silence.

"You could say that," Lance managed to huff when Pidge failed to respond. "Where you've been, what happened three years ago, how you escaped, why you didn't come to Pidge and Mrs. Holt when you first escaped."

The more Lance spoke, the angrier he got, so he was startled when Pidge put her hand back on his knee to stop him. Her voice was shaky when she spoke. "Just…start from the beginning. Please? I need to know…what happened to my brother and my father. With the Galra? With…your team?"

Shiro licked his lips and looked away. "That's the problem," he whispered, words clipped. "I…don't remember much. Anything, really. I remember…I remember being undercover with Matt and Sam. I remember the safe house we were hiding out in was ambushed, and we were captured. And I know everything that happened to me from before the mission."

He looked up, eyes glassy. "But I can't remember anything during it, or what happened to Sam and Matt. I'm sorry, Katie."

Pidge pressed her lips into a thin line so hard that they turned white. "Is there…any hope?" she asked, so softly that Lance was amazed he could hear her.

Shiro hesitated. "I honestly don't know," he admitted.

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 3rd, 2016. 7:02 pm._

"-and in local news, resident artist and engineer Nyma Benson was found dead outside of her apartment late last night. Just 25 years old, Nyma was a well-known-"

Keith shut off the news cast and turned to his laptop with a shaky sigh, flipping up the lid and pulling up Facebook. He opened his individual messages with Hunk and let his fingers hover over the keyboard for a long moment, the screen suddenly too bright in his dimly lit room.

 _Keith Kogane: Hunk...I'm...I was just watching the news. I'm really sorry, man._

 _Hunk Garret: What? What happened?_

Keith cursed out loud and dropped his head into his hands. It had been almost 24 hours, he would have assumed Rolo would have called him by now with the news. He swallowed and hovered his hands back over the keyboard, but before anything was typed, the little ellipses that indicated Hunk was typing bubbled up.

 _Hunk Garret: Fuck._

 _Keith Kogane: Hunk, I'm sorry. I didn't want you...I thought you knew._

 _Hunk Garret: FUCK. SHIT._

Keith flinched and sat back again, shoving down the emotion welling in his throat. He knew Nyma had been going to die. Hell, she had known it. But he also knew Hunk, and he knew how much he cared about his friends.

 _Keith Kogane: I'm really sorry man. Is there anything I can do?_

 _Hunk Garret: No. I'm just...give me a minute. I can't...fuck._

 _Keith Kogane: Do you need me to come over or...?_

 _Hunk Garret: No. But thanks. Lance and Pidge are here. I just...I'm going to kill them._

Keith's face drained of blood and he lunged for the TV again, turning it back on in time to hear the news woman declare, "-works of Galra members, based on the marking left near the crime scene. Police are working to identify any particular connection that Benson may have been affiliated-"

 _Hunk Garret: She was one of them_

 _Keith Kogane: You don't know that man_

 _Hunk Garret: Why else would they kill her? She must have done something they didn't like_

 _Hunk Garret: This is the fucking cherry on top, I did not need this after today_

 _Keith Kogane: Did something else happen?_

 _Hunk Garret: Just_

 _Hunk Garret: Pidge_

 _Hunk Garret: Shiro came back today._

Keith nearly choked on his own saliva.

 _Keith Kogane: Wait_

 _Keith Kogane: you mean the guy who went missing alongside her dad and brother_

 _Keith Kogane: THAT Shiro?_

 _Hunk Garret: Yeah_

 _Hunk Garret: She slapped him_

 _Keith Kogane: I'm coming over_

 _Hunk Garret: He's not here anymore_

 _Hunk Garret: He went back to his hotel room where he's staying_

 _Keith Kogane: He's not at his house?_

 _Hunk Garret: All his shit was auctioned off when he was declared dead. His mom is in a nursing home. He's afraid if he shows up she might actually die. He was an only child, and he doesn't..._

 _Hunk Garret: He doesn't remember enough to want to go to the media or police station just yet._

 _Keith Kogane: Enough about what?_

 _Hunk Garret: The Galra that held him_

Keith felt his mouth go dry and he heaved a sigh, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He really had no idea how to respond to that.

 _Keith Kogane: I mean still_

 _Keith Kogane: I want to come over. Idk maybe I could help somehow_

 _Hunk Garret: I...yeah. I'd actually appreciate that a lot, I think. We're on our way to Allura and Coran's right now._

 _Keith Kogane: All right. Be there in a few ticks._

 _Hunk Garret: Thanks man_

Keith shut his laptop and shoved it into his bag, along with chargers for both it and his phone and a change of clothing, just in case. He grabbed his toothbrush from his bathroom and then swung into the hallway, fingers digging into his pocket for his keys.

"Heading out, Kogane?"

Keith stopped and pursed his lips, plastering a fake smile onto his face and turning to look at Sendak, standing behind him. His beefy arms were crossed over his chest, his prosthetic glowing a dim purple color in the poorly lit hallway. "Maybe," Keith answered, shifting his bag. "What's it to you?"

"If you're, say, going out to investigate Voltron...I'm very intrigued."

Keith pursed his lips. "I am," he admitted after a moment, hoping that the admission would be enough to get Sendak off his back.

It didn't.

"Wonderful. How about I join?"

It wasn't really a suggestion, but Keith feigned idiocy and acted like it was. "I don't think that's a great idea. The people that I'm observing would get suspicious if I brought someone with me."

Sendak practically growled, his eyes glinting. "Address, then?"

Keith hesitated for a split second before reaching slowly into his pocket and pulling out a receipt he had left there after his last work shift. "Got a pen?"

It was a weird, tense kind of face off. If the situation had been different, Keith might have laughed at how uncomfortable it was watching Sendak dig a pen from the pocket of his shirt. He handed it over and Keith took it, scribbling down the address to the hideout before giving it back. He knew there was a tracker on his bike. He knew that it wasn't usually monitored. But he also knew that Sendak didn't trust him like Zarkon seemed to, and so giving him a fake address could result in him getting questioned. And he most likely wouldn't survive the questioning.

"This is where we'll be."

"We?" Sendak asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Keith shot him a glare. "I'm working with people close to The Princess. They must not suspect anything, Sendak. If my cover is blown, we get nothing."

Sendak scowled. "Understood."

Keith turned back around and strode away, keeping his head up and his shoulders squared until he walked out of the compound and into the parking lot, where he let the tension ease away. He pulled out his phone as he walked to his bike and pulled up his chat with Hunk.

 _Keith Kogane: On my way now. You guys want to hang around there all night? Because I have some intel on the Galra._

 _Hunk Garret: Wait, what?_

 _Keith Kogane: I went digging. They've got a large amount of traffic around one of the local bookstores._

 _Keith Kogane: I pulled up the prints for the store and there's a basement that isn't registered._

 _Hunk Garret: Pidge says you're right. What do you think is there?_

 _Keith Kogane: Honestly I don't know. But it has to be important if they're going to so much trouble to hide it._

 _Hunk Garret: All right._

 _Hunk Garret: Okay, we'll all meet you there._

 _Keith Kogane: No, that's okay. I'll meet you at the hideout and then we can go together. See you in a few._

 _Hunk Garret: Kk._

Keith shoved his phone in his pocket, tugged his helmet on, and glanced back at the compound. He could practically feel Sendak watching him through the tinted windows.

"I'm sorry, guys," Keith whispered.

He ducked his head, revved the engine, and peeled from the parking lot.

* * *

 **Hey remember how I said not to get too attached to the base?**

 **Yeah.**


	14. Building It Up

**Chapter 14: Burn** _ **It Down,**_ **Linkin Park.**

 **This chapter was almost titled with the song Hey, Brother, by Avicci. But I have other plans for that song, now...hehehehe.**

* * *

 _Voltron Headquarters. June 3rd, 2016. 7:37 pm._

Keith let himself into the building with his extra key, nodding to the group crowded in the living area. "I'm gonna toss my duffle upstairs," he informed them, lifting his bag. "Grab a sweatshirt. I'll be back down in a second."

"Take your time," Allura said, curling her hands around a mug of coffee and leaning on the back of the couch. "Pidge still needs time to figure out the security system on the storefront."

Pidge scoffed, never lifting her gaze from her laptop. Her eyes glistened behind her glasses. "Like less than two minutes."

Keith didn't respond, merely vaulted up the stairs and to his bedroom.

His bedroom.

He heaved a shaky sigh and shut the door behind him, leaning against it and thunking his head back on the wood.

In the last month, he had accumulated a lot of small things, trinkets that he couldn't keep in his room at Galra headquarters for one reason or another. Keith had never really had a room bigger than a shoebox, and so this one felt like a straight up mansion to him. And he had a bad feeling that he wasn't going to see it again after tonight.

He dropped his duffle on the ground and shed his signature jacket, fingering the tracking device in the sleeve that had been there his whole life. He draped it across the messily made bed and pulled on a dark red hoodie from Target over his t-shirt. He switched from his boots, also tracked, into a pair of black Converse. His heart hammered in his chest as he moved.

What happened tonight would be a testament to what Zarkon and Sendak thought of him.

His knife, untracked only because of what could happen if someone un-Galra friendly found it, remained on his lower back. He picked up the weapon Allura had given him a few weeks ago, tracing his fingers along the delicate red blade.

It had belonged to her father, and he knew that she had a hard time parting with it. It was longer than his knife, about the length of his forearm, and had been well taken care of. It's sheath gave it the appearance of an umbrella, and he settled it inside and tucked it under his arm before digging through his drawers.

He pulled the burner phone that the team used out from under a few mismatched pairs of socks and tucked it into his hoodie pocket, shutting off his personal phone and removing the battery from inside before tucking those into his jeans. Excess cash he shoved into his back pocket, and he pulled an extra switchblade from under his pillow.

Keith eyeballed the room once before leaving before ducking into everyone else's rooms. He didn't know what they might want to keep, what they had copies of. Pidge would have her laptop with her, and they would all have their weapons.

"Keith? What are you doing in my room?" Lance asked from behind him.

Keith jumped and glanced behind him at Lance, who had hesitated at the top of the stairs with his hand on the railing. "I...do you have a pen?"

A slow eyebrow lifted on Lance's face, but he didn't question it, merely stepped past Keith and walked over to his desk. He pulled the top drawer open and turned around, holding it out in a way that forced Keith to step inside and take it.

Lance moved fast, hands dropping from the pen and cool fingers wrapping around Keith's wrist, pulling him close. "What's wrong?"

Keith gaped, the pen falling to the ground between them. His eyes searched Lance's pinched brows, the nervous twitch of his lips, and his gut curled with a multitude of feelings. "I...don't know," he said quietly. He dropped his chin and licked his lips, staring at the pen. "Something feels wrong."

His voice was barely more than a whisper, and it cracked embarrassingly in the middle of his sentence. Lance's grip loosened and Keith pulled away, kneeling to pick up the writing utensil. "Something feels like it's going to go wrong. Like a bomb waiting to go off."

Lance knelt next to him, settling a hand on his shoulder. "Well something made you feel that way. Do you-?"

"Oi! You's two!" Pidge shouted from the base of the stairs. "I got the stuff, stop making out and let's gooooooo, we're leaving without yoooouu!"

Lance yanked back and jumped to his feet, wiping his hands on his shirt. "We'll take my car, Half-Pint!"

"Ay! What'd I say about that!?"

Lance turned back to Keith, studying him for another moment, and then moved to his dresser. He pulled a necklace off the top, a ring glinting on the chain, and slid it over his head. He pocketed his wallet and tilted his head. "Your gut is usually right. Let's go."

Keith stood slowly and followed Lance, who didn't go straight for the stairs but instead slipped into Pidge's room, coming back out with a pencil case, and then into Hunk's, where he returned with a bandanna tied around his head and a laptop case slung over his shoulder. "Get the mice."

Keith faltered. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Allura's mice, dumbass. They're on her bookshelf. Carrying crate on the desk."

"She has _mice_?"

Lance scoffed and vanished into Coran's room, leaving Keith to trip into Allura's. He had never been inside it, but it was bigger than his and Lance's room combined. It was nearly spotless, a queen-sized bed centered in the room, and sure enough, on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the corner was a specially made mouse cage that ran the length, width, and height of the bookshelf. He counted four mice inside, all of whom peeped up and stared at him while he grabbed the carrying crate from the spot on the desk, right where Lance had said it would be. It had a water bottle attached to the side, and a small bag of food was sitting on top of it, so Keith pocketed that before moving over to the door that was drilled into the side of the bookshelf.

"All right, you guys," Keith muttered, eyeing the mice warily. "How do I-?"

He lifted the cage in his hand and the mice instantly gathered at the door, noses twitching. Keith let out a soft laugh of surprise, but lifted the cage to the door and swung it open. The mice clambered inside without hesitation, squeaking softly as Keith shut the door.

"She's been training them their whole lives," came Lance's voice.

Keith turned around, finding Lance in the doorway with yet another laptop case over his shoulder – Coran's, he assumed. "Why are you doing this?" he found himself asking, adjusting the sword under his arm as it slipped.

Lance shrugged. "You have a bad feeling. I've learned to trust people's guts. Better safe than sorry, right? If nothing happens, we just put everything back. I do that all the time – take stuff on gut feeling, I mean."

He lifted his free hand, the one not holding Pidge's pencil box, and showed Keith the knife from his back. Keith nearly dropped the mice moving his hand to feel his back. His gut coiled, eyes darting to the cloth wrapped around the unmistakable Galra symbol he had grown up seeing on his mother's and Thace's gear. It looked like it was loose. Or maybe he was just paranoid.

"Cool knife," Lance declared, tossing it back. Keith caught it, stunned, and put it back. "Look, I trust you. If you say you feel off, you feel off. Hell, you might just be getting sick. Maybe it's the apocalypse. Regardless, I grabbed the stuff that I know everyone would be devastated with- wait."

He dove to his knees and rummaged around under Allura's bed, coming out with a large book that was bound in leather and locked with a small padlock. "Now I have everything," he declared. "Everyone's wallets, Pidge's trinket box, laptops left behind, annnndddd Allura's book of Galra spies."

Keith nearly choked. "Her what?" he managed, following Lance out the door and down the stairs. He was being hit by a lot tonight.

Lance lifted the book awkwardly from where it was perched in the crook of his arm. "Her father. He gave her a list of allies, a list of people she could trust inside of the Galra gang. Some of them have died, some of them have gone missing."

"That can't be all it is," Keith argued after a moment, now following Lance to his car. Lance tossed everything into the backseat and Keith strapped the mice into the back securely, making sure the water bottle was snug before climbing into the passenger seat. "It's too big for that."

Lance hummed in agreement and buckled, starting the car. "Mm, I suppose. I've never asked her what else is in it."

Keith cast one last look at his bike and then they pulled from the lot. "You aren't curious?"

Lance chuckled. "Of course I'm curious, Keith. But it's not my business. Now pull up directions, I don't know which bookstore we're going to."

Keith did as asked, casting one last glance at the book behind him and wondering just who, if anyone, he knew in it's pages.

* * *

 _Daibazaal Books and Music. June 3rd, 2016. 8:18 pm._

"Where are they?" Hunk mused, eyeing the street with a kind of anxiety that made Pidge restless. "They were supposed to be right behind us."

"Told you," she said, sifting through the building blueprints Coran had printed for her. "Sucking face."

"Keith wanted to come, he's the one who told us about this place," Hunk protested. His voice was soft. "He wouldn't just...bail."

"Sometimes people bail, Hunk," Pidge muttered. "Sometimes people don't give a rat's ass about your feelings and they show up and fuck everything that you ever thought existed up and they don't even give two shits."

Her fingers trembled on the paper, and Hunk's hands settled over them after a moment, his voice calm when he spoke. "Hey. Pidgeon. Just because Shiro doesn't remember what happened doesn't mean that your dad and Matt are...you know."

Pidge shuddered and pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. Across the interior of the van, Allura and Coran were talking softly between themselves about how to best go about this infiltration. The bookstore had only just closed, after all. Eight in the evening wasn't very late. "I know," she murmured. "But I feel like he would remember if they were really okay."

"You don't know that. Just text him. Get coffee with him. Even...even if something did happen to them, you can't just abandon Shiro. He and Matt were close, weren't they?"

Pidge swallowed. "Yeah. He was like a cousin. He was always at our house for dinner and shit. Hunk, I don't know if I can."

Hunk nodded and ruffled her hair gently, ignoring her halfhearted protests. "Lance and I will be here if you need us. Keith too. Take the time to talk to him, figure out what happened together. It's better than not knowing the whole story."

He turned away, shoulders bunching, and glared out the windows at the bookstore. Pidge shifted in her seat, fiddling with the end of the braid that was draped over her shoulder. Lance had been playing with hers and Allura's hair before Keith had texted and the night had kind of blown up. "I'm sorry," she said, voice low.

Hunk glanced back at her, his gaze drooping. "It's not your fault," he murmured. "I just...I wish I had known what she was involved in. I wish I had known that she was working for the wrong side."

"Well," Pidge mused, dropping her feet to the ground and setting her laptop aside so that she could lean on her knees. "She must have done something right, in the end. They wouldn't have uh..."

"Killed her?"

Pidge winced. "Yeah. They wouldn't have done that if they were happy with her work. She did something right at the end. And I only met her and Rolo a few times, but they seemed close. I'm sure they threated Rolo to get her to-"

"Shit," Hunk hissed, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I didn't even check on Rolo. What kind of friend am I?"

Pidge hugged her knees up to her chest and sighed, settling her chin on top of her knees. "Allura, any sign of Lance and Keith?" she asked while Hunk texted furiously.

Allura looked up from the security feed. "Yes," she assured them. "Keith informed us that they will be here in the next few minutes. I'm hoping for a fast mission. Everyone is fairly exhausted tonight."

"You're telling me," Pidge grumbled, rubbing a fist at her right eye. Hunk set his phone down and turned back to the conversation. "What are we even looking for?"

Allura frowned. "Anything that can tell us how to take down Zarkon from the inside. Contacts, blueprints, the works. If it's not on their systems digitally, then it must be stored in the basement."

A knock sounded outside the door and Allura opened it to reveal Lance and Keith standing there, bags slung over their shoulders. "Nice of you to join us," Pidge droned as they clambered inside.

Lance flipped her off and flopped down next to Hunk. Keith sat down next to Pidge, his fingers tapping lightly on his legs and his knees jiggling restlessly. Pidge wordlessly dug into her bag and pulled out a palm sized bouncy ball, handing it over. Keith instantly started rolling it between his hands and fingers, and slowly the bouncing of his knee stopped. "You guys have a plan yet?" he asked, rolling the ball like dough between his hands.

Allura nodded. "The night staff has just left, so once Pidge has hacked into the camera system, we'll be good to go."

"Of course," Pidge jumped ahead, "there's probably a code or something to get into the basement. I'll need a few minutes to crack that before we can get in. The backup system for the cameras won't kick in for about fifteen minutes, so we've got a bit of time before the police are notified."

Lance shot a side glance at Keith that Pidge wasn't sure she could decipher, but she chose to ignore it. "With everyone watching my back, we should be in and out with no problem. Our biggest dilemma is going to be digging through information in the basement. If we take too much, they'll know we exist."

Next to her, Keith's leg started shaking again.

"All right," Allura said, pursing her lips. "In that case, I'm coming with you for an extra pair of hands. Coran, be ready to leave at a moment's notice."

"Copy, Princess."

* * *

They got in with surprising ease, Lance picking the lock in less than a minute while Pidge worked on the security cameras. The moment they were on loop, they pushed the door open with a soft jingle and stepped into the store.

It smelled like old books, of mothballs and rain and slight mildew, and Pidge breathed it in for a second. It was one of her favorite smells of all time. The rest of the group spread out and began searching while Pidge ducked behind the checkout counter, her eyes roving over the underside of the register with a pen light.

Dangling beside the register was a ring of four keys, and she grabbed those on a whim, popping up when Hunk called out a soft, "Found it!" from the back room.

The back was lined wall to wall with overstocked books, and one of the bookshelves was swung out from the wall like a door on a hinge. Pidge huffed in disbelief. "They made the passageway behind a secret bookshelf?"

Hunk grinned. "Pulled out a book to open it, too."

"Which book?" Keith asked, tilting his head.

"The Secret Garden."

"Amazing," Lance muttered.

"What kind of locking system is it?" Pidge asked, already lifting her wrist to work through the code.

"It's just a padlock, believe it or not."

She grinned and held up the key ring before tossing it over. "I'd believe it."

Hunk opened the lock on the third key and the door swung open silently, letting out the damp smell of basement air. He tucked the keys into his pocket and gestured in.

"Time, Pidgeon?"

"We have thirteen minutes. Give or take."

"Let's take," Allura decided, leading the way downstairs with her flashlight held at eye level.

The basement was about as dreary as a basement could be, with cement walls and floors and a single, creaky bulb in the center of the room that was turned on by a dingy piece of string. Excess, old books lined one wall, some of them visibly covered in mildew and mold. Spiders dangled in the corners, fat and full from the bugs that clambered in through the cracks in the walls, and on the far side of the room was an old rotary desk loaded with files. A rusty filing cabinet next to it was the only other visible thing in the room.

When Hunk managed to pry it open with a deafening squeak, they found it jam packed with fresher portfolios, cleaner than the ones on the desk, dated more recently. "Looks like they're doing some spring cleaning," Hunk noted, starting to hand out files to people.

"Skim them," Allura ordered. "Take photos unless I tell you otherwise. We can't afford to let the Galra know that we were here."

Pidge took a load of files from Hunk and plopped onto the floor, going through them with a keen eye – she had gotten through all of high school and her few years of college by just skimming. She was a fast reader normally, and so skimming was her specialty. She went through her stack before most of the group was done with half of theirs, taking quick snapshots of blueprints and a few lists that contained addresses.

She dumped the files back into the cabinet by date and then moved to the second drawer. She thumbed through the first few files and then froze.

"These are prisoners," she said after a tense moment. "This drawer is full of prisoners."

"How do you know?" Lance asked.

Pidge's throat got tight and she held up the file in her hand, using her other hand to frantically dig through the other files. "This is Matt's record."

* * *

They got out with two minutes to spare, ushering themselves into the van and off the street, towing Lance's car along behind them. They drove for about four minutes before Coran pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour McDonalds and shut the car off. "I'm going to get a coffee," he declared. "Anyone want anything?"

A chorus of no's hit him and Coran left the car, leaving the others to turn and look at Pidge, who had been staring at Matt's file for the whole ride. Lance glanced over at Hunk with a frown and the other man shrugged before scooching closer to Pidge. "You okay?"

Pidge shook her head. "No," she croaked. She had been crying, Lance noted. A spike of pain climbed through his chest. "It's...it's his file. But not my...just Matt's. The last date is from a week ago. He could still be..."

She trailed off and her fingers tightened on the folder, hands trembling. Hunk tucked her into his side in a protective way and Lance glanced at Keith, who had been quiet since Pidge had found the folder. He was curled up in the same seat as Lance, stuffed into the corner with his arms wrapped around his legs and his knees drawn up to his chin. "Keith?" Lance said, keeping his voice low. "You okay?"

Keith hesitated, lifting his gaze to Lance's. His face was ashy. "If Pidge's brother...maybe my dad..."

He swallowed and looked away again, eyes glassy, and Lance bit his tongue, lowering his head. The van grew uncomfortably quiet and he pulled out his phone on reflex, opening up his news app and scrolling through a couple of recent articles, mostly pop culture nonsense that he glazed over without thinking.

One particular headline caught his eye, a recent one from the last twenty minutes, about a fire. He pulled it up and froze, ironically, before scrambling to the divider between the front and back seats and flinging himself over the backs. Allura, who had been half dozing in the front, yelped at his sudden appearance. "Lance, what-?"

"Shut up!" he snapped, flicking on the radio and turning to the first news station he could think of.

He caught it in the middle of an ad and waited impatiently for the commercial for the Balmeran bakery to pass before the casters came back on. "In recent news, fire fighters are working to put out a massive fire on Valerian street, an abandoned warehouse that used to house farming supplies. The fire started almost twenty minutes ago, and it appears that the majority is unsalvageable."

Coran opened the door and glanced up at the group, mustache twitching and the coffee in his hand tilting. "Uh...did you lot want something?"

"Drive," Allura demanded.

Lance clambered back into the back, stunned, and Coran climbed in and floored it. He nearly hit the entrance sign on the way out, but no one protested at the sudden jolts. Lance was flung into Hunk, who caught him with a firm arm and lowered him to the seat while holding onto Pidge, who was now typing furiously at her arm computer, Matt's file pinched between her knees. "The fire actually started half an hour ago, but no one caught it until the flames were high enough to see from the next street. Makes sense, that place is abandoned as shit, but what the fuck happened? Did we leave a stove on?"

"No," Allura deadpanned from the front. Everyone glanced up to look at her, and her eyes glinted when she lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror.

"What do you mean, no?" Hunk demanded.

"No one left anything on. A fire like that could not have started and been so destructive from just the stove."

"Then what other explanation is there?"

"Zarkon knows I'm alive, and he knows where I am."

* * *

 **Fun game: How many unintentional explosion references did I make before the actual hideout burned down? Lmao I didn't even notice that I did it until my third read-through of this chapter.**

 **Also, since Fanfiction is dumb and doesn't let me post links, my playlist for this fic is up on Spotify right now! My username is takeovermidnight, and the playlist is the title of the fanfiction! (Though I have a bunch of public playlists that you can feel free to listen to as well, if you'd like). It's updated as I update the story, so feel free to follow and listen!**


	15. The Moment

**Chapter 15: _Let_** _ **Love In,**_ **the Goo Goo Dolls.**

 **Whoops, got caught up in Miraculous Ladybug for a bit and distracted from this. Thank god i'm several chapters ahead in this story and just need to edit!**

 **Pidgee Squishee: If I killed Colleen Holt I would have to physically fling myself off a roof, she's too perfect to kill. (I say this, and then next chapter...)**

* * *

 _Valerian Street. June 3rd, 2016. 9:23 pm._

Allura stood silently across the street amongst gawkers and observers, her hands pressed together and resting on her lips, struggling not to cry. Coran stood next to and slightly behind her, a firm, warm presence at her back, and eventually she turned into him for a tight hug. The fire was flickering into non-existence, chewing up the remainder of their home for the last eight years.

They returned to their small group, huddled together in the back. Pidge still clung to her brother's file, and Hunk and Lance were flanking her protectively on either side. Keith was slightly off to the side, his eyes wide and unblinking as he watched the fire. "My bike," he managed after a moment. "That...my mom gave that to me."

"It took me years to save enough for my truck," Hunk muttered.

Their vehicles had been completely destroyed, melted and burned beyond recognition which, Allura thought, could be somewhat of a good thing. It meant their license plates couldn't be tracked, but she knew that now was not the time to say that to them. "There were many things...my mice, my father's book..."

She choked back a sob and Lance glanced up, a weak smile flickering over his face. "Actually...I had a bad feeling about tonight. I don't know why, but Shiro coming back, and Nyma dying...it just felt like something else was going to go wrong. So Keith and I grabbed some things from everyone's rooms. They're in my car."

Allura's breath hitched and she followed Lance down the street and around the corner to his car, where he pulled open the back door and reached in, grabbing the traveling cage the mice were in, squeaking at the commotion they were greeted with. Allura shuddered and poked her fingers through the wires, tears spilling over.

The rest of the group joined and Lance leaned in, pulling out Pidge's pencil case and handing it over. It was filled with her flash drives, a fidget cube her brother had given her, and a few old polaroid's, and she took it from him with a smile of gratitude.

"This was Zarkon," Allura muttered, her voice filled with a depressed kind of malice, like her heart wasn't really in it. "It had to be."

Lance leaned against the car and shot Keith a side glance, noting the way the young man was glaring at the pavement, hands curled into fists and body trembling in what could only be described as rage. "That seems obvious," he noted, dragging his gaze back to Allura, who was now holding all four mice in the palms of her hands. "But how did he know where you were?"

Allura shook her head, pressing a soft kiss to the head of the biggest mouse and then settling them back in the case. "I don't know," she said, shutting the door and looking up. Her face turned steely. "But we can't wait around here. Someone is bound to show up soon to make sure the job is completed, and if we are still here when they show up..."

She didn't need to continue, the meaning hanging in the air. Hunk tilted his head. "You're welcome to come back to our apartment," he offered.

Allura gave him a small smile. "I appreciate it, Hunk. But Coran and I have another safe house, smaller, in case a thing like this ever happened. I kept the location from everyone but Coran in order to ensure it's safety. I haven't visited it in quite some time, so it may need some touching up, but we can go there for the remainder of the evening. Unless of course...you four want to go home. I would understand if that were the case."

Keith spoke first, which surprised Lance. "I really wouldn't have a way home," he chuckled humorlessly.

"I can drive you," Lance found himself offering.

Keith glanced up at him, a weak smile on his face. "That's okay. Um...I don't think I'd feel comfortable alone tonight."

"Me neither," Pidge murmured, her first words since they'd gotten there.

"Then it's settled," Allura decided, turning to face Coran. "Let's go."

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 3rd, 2016. 9:57 pm._

It was a farmhouse, Keith mused as they climbed the twisting driveway that ran from the road. Or rather, that was the outer appearance it gave off. The driveway only ran up about halfway before turning to a narrowed gravel road that probably wasn't meant for cars. Coran had pulled the van and Lance's car off to the side and into a small shed in the woods, and, after grabbing their remaining belongings, they had hiked the rest of the way up.

It was a two-story house, painted a deep burgundy on the outside with chips in the paint around the edges of the woodwork. The windows were covered in curtains on the inside and leading up to the front door were a trio of steps that arched onto a porch that covered the front of the house and appeared to wrap around the back. There was no furniture on the porch, and it creaked almost ominously as they climbed it.

The porch lights were old fashioned sconces, painted a dark blue color with fire shaped lightbulbs in them that Keith wasn't sure had been used in the last decade, if the dust covering the back of them was any indication.

Allura had to fight a bit with the key in the lock before she pushed the front door open, a comical billow of dust rising as the door jamb was disturbed. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face, and turned with an apologetic smile. "Fortunately, we prepared ahead of time and covered the furniture in sheets, otherwise I wouldn't have us stay here for the night. I know you don't really have anything in the way of sleep clothes, but I can't say we have much more here than a go-bag and a few non-perishable essentials."

No one commented, merely filed inside after Coran, Pidge still flanked by Hunk and Lance. Keith brought up the rear, shutting the door behind them all and encasing the room they had just entered into in darkness.

Coran cursed and there was the sound of things falling and what sounded suspiciously like a stubbed toe before a lamp clicked on in the far corner of the room, making everyone groan in annoyance.

The first thing Keith noticed was the sheer size of the room they had stepped into. The floor was a warm mahogany color, a brown and tan throw rug under his feet the only other color he could spot immediately. It was clearly a living room that they had stepped into, if the sofa in the center was any indication. It was a sectional sofa, running along a side wall and then curving into the center of the room and curving again towards the back wall, where Coran stood with a hand on the light switch.

Next to Coran was a piano, which startled Keith more than he cared to admit. The back wall was actually lined with instruments, now that he looked. An electric and acoustic guitar, a cello in the corner (all unstringed), the piano, and a large speaker system.

To both the left and right of the instruments were doors that led into darkened rooms that Keith couldn't make out, so he turned his attention back to the rest of the room. A relatively small flat screen was set in front of the sofa and a coffee table divided the space between those. Arm chairs rested on either end of the sofa, creating an almost movie-like setting.

Next to the door sat an empty and dusty shoe and coat rack, and other than that, the room was eerily empty.

He looked to Allura, who was starting to pull the sheets off of the couches and chairs, revealing a cream color on the couches and a blue on the chairs. Hunk moved to help her without prompting, sending dust particles drifting into the hazy light. Lance moved to the curtains, as if on instinct, and Coran moved across the room so fast that Keith barely had time to blink. The man slammed a hand down on the curtains, eyes flashing. "No."

Lance recoiled and Coran softened, loosening his stance. "Sorry, my boy. We just can't let anyone see the light in here for now. The blinds stay shut until Allura and I say otherwise."

"No one even lives way out here," Keith found himself protesting. The hairs on his neck had raised at how fast Coran had moved, how angry he had appeared, and he made a note not to test the man again. "There wouldn't be anyone to see the light."

"That's an assumption we just can't afford to make right now," Allura said with a sigh. She looked up at all of them. "Would you like to see the rest of the house, or...?"

The question trailed off, hanging tangible in the air, and no one made a move to take it and answer. Instead, Pidge slumped across the floor and collapsed into the corner of the sofa closest to the wall, clutching her brother's file and her pencil case to her chest.

Lance moved after her, not bothering to walk around the couch and instead climbing over it in true Lance style, curling up next to her and dragging her against his chest. She snuggled in instantly, free fingers curling into Lance's shirt and eyes fluttering shut. Keith's heart lurched at the sight, aching with a longing sensation he wasn't aware that he was capable of.

Hunk was more polite, walking around to the front of the couch and bypassing the TV, settling on the other side of Pidge and Lance and kicking his socked feet – when had he taken his shoes off? – onto the other side of the couch. Pidge shifted so that her feet rested in his lap and Lance settled against the back of the sofa, dragging his fingers through her hair.

Allura vanished into one of the darkened doorways and returned a few minutes later with an armful of blankets and pillows. She stopped in front of Coran, who took one and instantly plopped into one of the chairs, which Keith learned momentarily was a recliner. Allura moved to him, and when she looked up at him and locked eyes, Keith found his gut clenching.

Her eyes, usually a bright collage of inexplicable blues and pinks, were dulled. A film seemed to cover them, the happiness, the determination, gone. Replacing them was loss, anger, sadness, and Keith wanted nothing more than to break down at her feet and tell her what had happened, that all of this was his fault.

But his mother was at the base still. Thace too. Pidge's father and brother were there, and if Zarkon found out that Keith was betraying him, really betraying him, they were all dead.

He choked back a whimper as Allura handed over the blanket and when their fingers brushed, she squeezed them, her lips flickering in a comforting smile. "They may be a bit musty," she said, and it took Keith a moment to realize she was talking about the blankets. "They have been here for almost three years, after all. When...when we last restocked."

He swallowed and managed a weak grin. "I've dealt with worse," he admitted truthfully.

She didn't comment, merely squeezed his hand again and then moved on to the trio on the couch. Keith slipped to the far side of the sofa, closer to Coran than to the others, and flopped backwards, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He tugged the blanket up around his chest and turned towards the back of the couch, shoving his hands under his cheeks and letting his cold fingers dig into his skin.

The lights flicked off and the sound of the second recliner creaking sent a startled shock up Keith's spine. "Goodnight, everyone," Allura said, voice soft.

Quiet murmurs came from the other group, but Keith stayed silent, staring through the dark at the whiteness of the couch.

It all came crashing down at once.

Sendak had told Zarkon where he'd be. They had tracked him through his bike. They had thought he would be there, knew he would be there, with the members of Voltron.

A sob escaped his throat before he could stop it.

They had knowingly tried to kill him. And he wasn't even surprised.

A soft hand settled on his calf and he nearly kicked out, before Lance's voice broke through the darkness and eased him down from his panic. "Hey man. C'mere."

He didn't protest, merely clutched his blanket in his arms and turned towards where he knew the group was sprawled. Lance's hand guided him to where he had spread out on the couch. Pidge was no longer sleeping on his chest, having switched to cuddling with Hunk and laying with her head facing Lance so that he could still pet her hair.

By the time he realized that Lance was dragging him up to basically spoon him, he was too broken to protest. He was a quiet crier, for the most part, and the tears were hot on his cheeks. He let Lance pull him in, let the arm curl around his chest, the ankles hook with his.

Lance's breath was warm on the back of his neck, his voice gentle, so quiet that Keith could barely hear. "You're okay. I'm okay. We're okay."

He shuddered and slid his arm around until his hand intertwined with Lance's, and then he lifted his free hand up on a whim and threaded it in Pidge's hair as well. The girl sighed, reaching out and squeezing his hand, and then fell silent again.

Lance's body was warm, comfortably so, but nevertheless Keith lifted the blanket around both of them before setting his arm back down against Lance's.

The shaking in his chest stopped slowly, evened out, and the panic in his throat died as he matched his breathing to Lance's, synced it with Hunk's soft snores, focused on Allura's somewhat ragged breaths.

Eventually, he fell asleep.

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 4th, 2016. 6:29 am._

When Keith woke up, he wasn't sure where he was. The room was too dark to make out much more than general shapes, but as he came to and tuned into everyone's breathing, the events from the previous night came crashing back down.

Keith wasn't sure when he had genuinely switched sides. When he had started to think of Allura and Coran as family and not as obstacles to keeping his friends safe. But some time in between their first meeting and last night, he had begun to enjoy Allura's soft spoken kindness, Coran's bad puns, the way they truly seemed to care for him.

He swallowed and glanced in the direction where he knew they were, startled to find Coran's chair empty. His eyes flickered to the other doors in the living room, and he could now make out a soft light glinting from the one running along the left wall.

He glanced sideways at Lance, who had his nose pressed into the fabric of Keith's hoodie, and when Keith looked down, he found their legs and fingers intertwined. It was so comfortable, he hadn't even noticed the position at first.

Embarrassment rushing through his chest, Keith slid away from Lance as slowly as he could muster, letting his cheek slip to the sofa cushion and his hand fall empty. The young man's face scrunched in displeasure as Keith pulled away totally, but he didn't wake up. Keith turned, swallowing the burning in his chest and stomach, and maneuvered the living room in what little light he had, aiming for the lit doorway.

It led him into what he assumed was a dining room, if the long table in the center of the room was any indicator. It was too dark to make out any other details, so he padded across the wooden floor in his socks and poked his head into what was definitely the kitchen, nose assaulted with the smell of fresh coffee.

Coran was sitting at a small table running along the near wall, staring down at the mug clenched between his hands. Steam rose from it, dusting his face, and Keith jolted at the sight of tears in the man's eyes.

"You can come in, you know," Coran said quietly, never moving. "No need to gawk."

"I'm...I'm sorry," Keith sputtered, stepping into the room and letting the door flip shut behind him. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Coran hummed and tilted his head at the coffee pot, resting on a counter opposite him.

The kitchen was small compared to the living room. A fridge sat directly opposite the door Keith had walked in, rather outdated, though seeing as they hadn't used the house in ten years, that wasn't much of a surprise. A microwave sat a few feet away on a rolling table, and next to it was a sink and a multitude of attached cabinets both below it and above it. Next to those was a shut door, which Keith wondered about, and then more cabinets hanging from the walls. Another door was behind Coran, this one with a small glass panel that let Keith see into what was most likely the yard, a window with more closed curtains beside it, and that was it.

He took the offered coffee, finding the mugs in the cabinet above the pot, and sank down at the table next to Coran. He took a long swig, reveling in the bitter taste, and then set the mug back down. "Are you okay?" he asked, feeling awkward. Keith wasn't usually the comforting one.

Coran pursed his lips and tapped his fingers at his mug. "Truthfully, no. Last night...I almost lost her. Again."

"Really care about Allura, huh?" Keith murmured.

Coran scoffed, as if that was a ridiculous question. "Of course. I practically helped to raise her. And her father..."

He trailed off, a fond look in his eyes that clashed with the sad one, and Keith cocked an eyebrow. "You had a thing for her father, didn't you."

The older man pursed his lips and took a long drink from his mug, cheeks flushed. Keith let a grin slide over his face. "You totally did."

"That is not something..." Coran took a breath, a shaky one, and set down the cup, fingers tightening around it. "It is not something I like to discuss. Okay?"

Keith faltered a little. With the way Coran was when he was playful, Keith would have thought he'd be loud and boisterous and out. Maybe not going to pride parades, seeing as there were people who wanted to literally kill him, but at least cracking the occasional gay joke. "I'm sorry if I overstepped. I get it. In more ways than one."

Coran glanced up, studying Keith for a few beats, and his mustache twitched with a wry smile. "I see. Explains the looks you keep giving Lance."

Keith choked on his coffee. "Hold up, this was about you."

"And now it isn't. If you fancy him-"

"I don't," Keith snapped, slamming his mug down hard enough to spill. He screeched his chair back from the table and spun away, curling his arms around himself and glaring out the blocked window. "I can't," he said, much more quietly.

Coran rose and moved to stand next to him, and Keith flinched as the man settled an arm around his shoulders. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into Keith's sweatshirt until he finally relaxed, leaning against him. "I'm sorry," Coran said, voice sincere. "I do not know what your home is like, your mother. I should not push."

Keith didn't bother to protest, knowing that he couldn't even begin to explain the situation he was in without ending up dead on the kitchen floor. Coran took his silence as confirmation and he spoke again, voice much lower.

"You're correct. In assuming that I...Alfor was a great man. An astounding man. He knew how to lead, how to govern, and he was so...so kind." Coran's voice cracked and Keith titled his head to his shoulder. "I tried to...repress it. Of course I did. His wife was beautiful, in her own way, and she made him so happy. And Allura...until her mother died, they were the happiest family I think I had ever seen, even with the threat of the Galra."

He took a shaky breath. "They used to be friends, you know."

"Who?"

"Alfor and Zarkon."

Keith stood up straight, staring at Coran in disbelief. "What?"

Coran hummed and nodded, letting his arm drop away from Keith's shoulders to tug at his mustache. "Yes. They were quite close, up until Allura was maybe...two or three, I'd say."

"Why...?"

"They both ran separate gangs. But back then, they weren't called gangs, I suppose. They were more of...vigilante groups, is the proper term. They only became true gangs, the ones you hear about on the news, when Zarkon and Alfor had their falling out. Zarkon didn't agree with the way that Alfor ran his part of the neighborhood. Thought he was too lenient, too kind...all the things that made him a good person."

Coran huffed and turned to Keith, eyes glimmering in the light. "So Zarkon killed him for it. And since, the other gangs have been forced to take less peaceful approaches. The Olkari have sentries and snipers in their parks, the Balmerans...captured, but until they were, they used their turf as their weapons, grenades and bombs hidden in the rocks around their base. The Nalquad gang put explosives on their piers, and that has barely remained enough...it was a war zone, Keith. Still is, but...much more subdued. How Zarkon likes it."

They stayed silent for a long time, staring at the curtains on the window and watching the sunlight start to creep around the edges.

"Maybe I like him a little bit," Keith said finally, cheeks warming even as he said it. His gut screamed "DANGER," but he shoved the thought aside, glancing sideways to find Coran smirking at him. "Just a little."

"A little is enough, my boy."

* * *

 **Hahahahahaha WOW the next chapter is gonna kill you, hope you enjoyed this very soft reprieve. I expect threatening notes in the next chapter's reviews.**

 **Also, bonus points to anyone who understands the significance of "Castellan Place," aside from it being a play on the word "Castle" lol.**


	16. Broken Happy Ever Afters

**Chapter 16: _What About Us,_ P!nk. **

**This chapter song was hard to come up with but I have good friends and also I'm drunk and sorry for not uploading this like two fucking weeks ago I SUCK.**

 **Rip prepare for terribleness at the end**

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 4th, 2016. 7:02 am._

Pidge trudged into the kitchen rubbing one eye with her fist, her brother's file in her other hand, and found Keith and Coran sitting shoulder to shoulder at the table, both of them holding coffee mugs and talking quietly. They looked up when she walked in, Keith giving her a small smile, and Pidge managed one back.

"Coffee?" she mumbled.

Coran pointed to the counter. "There. Dry creamer is all we have, I'm afraid."

"S'okay," Pidge assured him, setting the file down at the spot opposite Keith and moving to the cupboard, grabbing a cup and finding a jar of sugar sitting behind the pot of coffee. She spooned that into the mug before pouring the coffee in over it, swirling the liquid in her mug a bit in order to dissolve the sugar.

She took a careful swig to test it and nodded, moving back to her seat and sinking into it, flipping Matt's file open. Keith leaned forward with interest, his eyebrows lifting. "Anything helpful?"

Pidge looked up at him over the rims of her glasses. His hair was mussed from sleeping, and his eyes looked tired, exhausted, as she was sure hers did. His fingers were covered by the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and despite the fact that he was older than all three of them, she was suddenly struck by how young he looked.

"Yeah," she finally answered, looking back down to the sheets. She flipped through them quickly, having read them almost six times the night before. Before everything had gone crazy.

Pidge swallowed another sip of coffee and tapped her pointer finger on the page under it. "This whole section is his postings. They have him training new Galra members in fighting. Unwillingly, I'd assume."

Keith hummed, taking another drink, and then motioned the mug at the file. "What else?"

She frowned and flipped another page. "The last listing is from a week ago. It says that "subject" was reluctant to help teach disarmament lessons, so they threatened his family. I'm hoping that means my father, even if it means he's in trouble," she said, her voice low.

"What if it means you?" Keith asked.

Pidge whipped her head up, staring at him, and his lips twitched as he looked away. "I just...what if you're in trouble?"

Pidge frowned. "How would Zarkon even know I exist?" she protested.

Coran spoke up, and Keith's shoulders slumped. "My dear, if they know that your brother is good enough at combat to teach it, and if the police force is as corrupted as we believe, save for mine and Allura's trusted officers...how are we to assume that Zarkon does not know about you and your mother?"

Pidge could feel the blood drain from her face, and she sank back, clutching her hands to her arms. "I didn't even think of that," she whispered. "My mom...I need to call her."

"You won't get much service out here," Coran said.

Pidge managed to smile, holding up her phone. "With a normal phone, maybe. I don't own anything normal."

* * *

They were cleaning up the living room to leave when Pidge got a text message from Shiro. "He wants to meet with me sometime today," she said, her voice low. A blanket dangled from her fingertips, and Lance took it gently. "I...can someone come with me?"

Hunk winced. "Sorry, Pidge. I have to work today."

"Your boss wouldn't mind if you called off," Keith said, shooting him a side glance.

Hunk nodded. "I know. But rent is due next week, and Shay's birthday is this weekend. I can't afford to take off."

"Same," Lance grumbled, finishing his folding. "That I need to go to work. I'm driving Hunk."

Pidge's eyes turned to Keith. "Please?"

"Okay."

She blinked, like she was surprised at the answer. "Really?"

"Yeah. Let me call my mom. She can give us a ride."

* * *

 _Varkon's Café and Bakery. June 4th, 2016. 10:43 am._

Lance dropped the three of them off in front of Varkon's and left with a small wave. When he left, Pidge felt a sudden clench in her gut, realizing that this was the first time the four of them had split up since they almost died. She nearly called him back.

But then Hunk went inside and Keith pulled out his phone to text his mother that they were out front, and she forced herself to calm down.

They were fine. They all had to be fine.

"She's closing up her drawer right now. She'll be out in a few," Keith informed her, tucking his phone away.

As he turned to look at the door, she studied him.

His shoulders were tense, his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, and his hair was tousled a little more carelessly than usual. He had been quiet the last few hours. He was normally quiet, but this was more than usual.

Pidge thought maybe it might be the near-death experience, but when she thought back on it, he hadn't broken down until late last night. Him cuddling with them had surprised her.

His mother stepped outside before Pidge's thoughts could wander farther, and though she had met the woman a few times, her resemblance to Keith never ceased to amaze her. Save for a set of scars on her cheeks and the fact that her hair was dyed purple on the undersides, they could have been twins.

"Morning, sweetie. Hi, honey," she directed at Pidge.

Pidge gave a small smile and a wave. "Morning, Miss Kogane."

"How many times have I told you kids that Krolia is just fine?"

Pidge chuckled and followed them to the car. "My mom would kill me if she knew that I was calling someone by their first name instead of a title."

"What your mother doesn't know won't hurt her," Krolia said with a wink. "Now...should I ask what happened to your bike that requires me to drive you two somewhere?"

Pidge looked at Keith, eyebrows lifting. He hadn't told her anything about the night before?

Keith smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...kinda got in a car wreck on it."

He was lying through his teeth, and Pidge knew that Krolia knew that. The way her eyes shot to his face, how her fingers tightened on her keys, the way her shoulders tensed. Amazingly, she didn't call him out on it. "You kids are all right?"

"Yeah, I was the only one on the bike at the time," Keith assured her.

"Hmmm. Well when...Uncle Tim finishes fixing up his bike, maybe he'll let you borrow it. As long as you're safer."

There it was. That pause, right before the word "Uncle." Pidge frowned slightly and Keith looked up at her. His lips pursed.

He knew that she had caught it.

The ride to the motel was tense, at least for Pidge, because she kept expecting something to go wrong. Keith was still hiding something from them. She didn't know what, couldn't even begin to think what. After learning that he had spent a lot of his life on the streets, she supposed she couldn't blame him; you learned to guard yourself in a position that vulnerable.

And she still trusted him unwaveringly, she realized as they pulled up to the motel, located on Olkari territory. They climbed out and waved goodbye to Krolia as she told them to call if they needed another lift. Pidge moved to check her phone, but Keith's hand stopped her.

"Pidge, I-"

"Tim isn't your uncle, is he?"

Keith's brows furrowed and he glanced away. "No," he said softly. "He's a criminal."

Pidge froze, and Keith must have felt it in her shoulder, because he looked back at her quickly, eyes wide. "No, no, not like...anyone bad. He got caught hacking government databases so that he could shorten the sentences for people wrongfully incriminated. He escaped prison and my mom and I met him while we were living on the streets. He...he's helped us out of a pickle more than once. Tim isn't his real name, just an alias."

Pidge breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. "Why not just say that?"

"My mom doesn't know you," Keith pointed out, his voice soft. "Not like I do. She gets freaked that someone is going to turn her in for harboring him."

"Is that...is that why you don't want us coming back to your house?" Pidge asked, realization dawning on her.

"Partially, yeah."

Before Pidge could ask what the other reasons were, a door behind them opened and Shiro poked his head out, spotting her and giving a small smile. "Pidge. I thought I heard-"

His gaze drifted to Keith's and Pidge felt Keith stiffen. Moments later, Shiro was storming towards them, his hands clenched into fists. "Get AWAY from her!"

He decked Keith across the mouth.

* * *

Pidge slammed the door shut, whirling on Shiro, and pointed at one of the twin beds in the room. "Sit down."

"Pidge-"

"NOW."

Shiro obliged, and Pidge turned back to Keith, eyes caressing the bruise that was forming on his jaw and the split lip that Shiro had managed to give him before Pidge stepped in. "You okay?" she said, forcing herself to calm down.

Keith rubbed his chin and cringed. "Yeah," he muttered, shooting a wary look at Shiro. "Peachy."

"You have an ice pack in here?" she demanded.

Shiro's lips pursed. "Yes."

Pidge stormed to the mini fridge and wrenched it open, keeping one eye on the two behind her. Men. She located the pack in the tiny freezer and pulled it out, wrapping it in a hand towel and handing it off to Keith before turning back to Shiro. "Want to explain what the hell that was all about?"

"Why are you hanging out with a criminal?"

Pidge furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Keith, surprised to find that guilt crossed his face. "Excuse me?"

Shiro crossed his arms, his jaw set. "He's a criminal, Katie. I helped book him a couple times."

"For trespassing and minor theft," Keith grumbled.

When Pidge didn't react to the confession, Shiro's mouth fell a little. "You...knew?"

Pidge scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Incredible. You've been gone for two years, Shiro. Don't pretend you still know me. Yes, I know. I also know that Keith had a rough fucking life and lived on the streets for a while, so maybe show some fucking compassion? And don't deck my friends across the jaw without consulting me about it?"

Keith snorted and shook his head. "Don't know what you needed me here for," he chuckled. "You seem to have this under control."

"I'm PISSED! He PUNCHED YOU!"

Shiro winced and looked away. "I...sorry. I..."

"It's fine," Keith promised, his voice sincere. Shiro glanced up, a brow lifted, and Keith shrugged. "I wasn't exactly a pleasant detainee. Don't blame you for thinking I was worse than I am."

"You're an asshole, Keith, we all know this," Pidge deadpanned.

"Put a sock in it, Half-Pint."

"Ooh, been taking lessons from Lance, I see."

Keith shoved her, an easy smile on his face, and Pidge saw Shiro finally relax all the way. He stood up and moved over to them, his hands loose at his sides. He held out his human hand to Keith. "Seriously. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged you on your past."

Keith took the offered hand and shook firmly, a twinkle in his eyes. "I can understand why you would."

"Based on what I'm remembering, though, I really shouldn't be doing that."

"What do you mean?" Pidge asked.

Shiro gestured to the beds. "Have a seat."

They obliged. Shiro sat across from them and leaned on his knees. "I've been...remembering some things. Mostly through nightmares, but some flashes during the day time. The owner of the motel...she's been helping me with some meditation techniques, making it easier to clear my head."

"Ryner?" Pidge clarified.

Shiro looked up, surprised. "Yeah. You know her?"

"I know of her. She helped wipe out the Galra in this sector of the suburb."

"Yeah," Shiro confirmed, nodding. "She's great. Anyway, I've been recalling a lot of things, mostly about my stay. They had me...training."

"Other Galra?" Pidge asked, wondering if he and Matt had the same jobs assigned to them.

"No," Shiro said. His voice dropped and he pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I think...I think they were training me to fight for them. I don't remember much, there's a lot that's hazy. But..."

"It's okay," Keith said, his voice remarkably gentle. "You don't have to think too hard about it. What do you remember clearly?"

Pidge squirmed, curious about what Shiro had been going to say initially, but she knew Keith was right. They couldn't force him to remember.

"I remember the Galra that helped me get out."

Pidge nearly choked on her own tongue. She knew that Allura had said something about owning a book of spies, but she didn't know which ones were still alive, which ones had really turned. Getting a name from Shiro would help forward their goals to take Zarkon down from the inside.

"Do you know his name?" Keith asked, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

"Ulaz."

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 4th, 2016. 8:28 pm._

Keith shifted from foot to foot outside of Zarkon's meeting room, clutching his files in his hands tightly.

His gut curled in distaste as he glanced down at the papers, fingers crinkling the manila with a crunched sound, one that you only heard when you bent a letter that wasn't supposed to be bent. Keith swallowed and smoothed out the folder, shutting his eyes.

It wasn't everything, of course. He hadn't put the new hideout location, the make and model of Allura's van, Pidge's nickname. Everything else, however, he put down out of fear for his mother. Phone numbers, addresses, family members, friends.

Rolo's name had been left off of Hunk's folder, only because Keith couldn't bear to see the look on Hunk's face if another one of his friends was threatened or killed. Besides, he owed it to Nyma. Shay's was on there, a fact he deeply regretted after hearing about her upcoming birthday.

"Zarkon will see you now," the guard from inside droned, looking at Keith with disinterest.

Keith tilted his head and stepped inside, flinching a little as the door slammed shut behind him. The room itself was like a stereotypical meeting room, but about ten times bigger. Zarkon sat behind a massive mahogany desk at the far end of the room with nothing on top of it but a handgun. There was one window in the room, fitted with bulletproof glass, that looked out onto the city. Keith sometimes forgot how high up Zarkon's room sat, and it made him dizzy at times.

There were two other doors in the room, one on either side of Zarkon's desk, and both were shut. No other chairs were in the room, so Keith was forced to settle the manila envelopes down on the desk and then back up and remain standing, his hands clasped in front of him.

Zarkon made a show of picking up the files and flipping through them one by one, his eyes drifting with agonizing slowness over the information Keith had given him.

"Is this all?" he asked after several long, silent minutes.

Keith licked his lips. "Yes sir."

"Where is their current address?"

"I don't know, sir."

Zarkon looked up, eyes dark. "Seeing as you did not return to base last night, since your transportation was destroyed, I can only assume that you stayed with them. I will ask again, what is the current address?"

"We stayed at the motel on the far side of town," Keith found himself saying. "The one the Olkari run."

Zarkon lifted a single eyebrow. "Convenient. Tell me, Kogane...are you upset?"

Keith swallowed, lifting his gaze slightly to look at the man. "Sir?"

"I mean, after all...we did blow up the location where we knew you were going last night. I can see why you'd be...upset."

Keith struggled to keep calm, not to snap. He knew Zarkon was testing him, knew not to give in. "One member is not worth the whole cause," he recited, ducking his head. "I understand the risk whenever I go on my missions."

"And yet you bring me nothing of worth from them, except, perhaps, for some potential people to torture. Speaking of..."

He snapped his fingers and Keith whipped his head back up, heart thundering in his throat as the door off to his left opened up. The hallway outside of it was dark, and Keith could hear the sounds of struggling, grunting.

"Please, no," he whimpered under his breath. His fingers clenched together and he bit down hard on his tongue to stop the tears. Zarkon had already taken his father, if he took his mother...Keith wasn't sure he would live through that.

Zarkon didn't seem affected by his distress. "You see, Kogane, Sendak has brought it to my attention that he doubts your loyalty. Based on these reports, I would have to concur. So I'll need some solid proof to give me a reason not to kill you. Bring him in."

 _Him._

The word smacked Keith in the face and he let out a shaking, careful breath, anxious not to let Zarkon hear his fear. It wasn't his mother. And it wouldn't be Thace, he was too valuable to Zarkon. So...?

The man they led in bore such a resemblance to Pidge that Keith almost choked. His face was chiseled, dotted with stubble, and his eyes were tired. Behind him was an older man, clearly related, and Keith's stomach sank as he recognized both of them.

"Samuel and Matthew Holt. They are...related to Katherine, are they not?" Zarkon mused.

Keith nearly swallowed his tongue at the murderous look that Matt shot him. "Yes sir," he whispered.

"Good."

He reached out and grabbed the gun on his desk, spinning it around until the hilt faced Keith. "Pick one."

"I...sorry?"

Zarkon cocked an eyebrow. "Pick one. And kill them."

"Sir, aren't they more valuable as-?"

"KILL. ONE. Or your mother joins them, and they all die tonight."

Keith's mouth went dry and he tasted bile. His fingers trembled as he stepped up to the desk and picked up the gun, clicking the safety off and drawing back the barrel. He had always preferred knives, and the gun in his hands felt wrong. Even more so with the intent of what he was about to do.

Matt or Sam. Her brother or her father.

He had killed before, of course, but suddenly it was like that didn't matter. It had never been this personal before.

Keith gulped and turned to look at them, focusing his gaze somewhere between the two. "Pros?"

The guard behind Matt answered first. "Young, agile, fast. Intelligent, and skilled in martial arts and computer sciences."

Sam's guard spoke next. "Intelligent. Intricate knowledge of the police force."

He stopped speaking and Keith flinched at the finality in his tone. He had seen these executions before, knew how they worked. Whoever had the shorter list died.

It was simple.

Keith leveled his eyes with Sam and studied him for a moment. His heart hammered in his chest and he stepped forward, thumb sliding down the smooth metal of the gun. He knelt next to Sam, well aware of the way Matt was starting to shout and tug at his bonds.

"Someone shut him UP!" Zarkon snapped.

In the commotion, Keith locked eyes with Sam. "She'll be safe," he whispered. "I promise."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, gaze flickering over Keith's face, and slowly his body relaxed. "I'm sorry," Keith murmured, standing up.

"It's all right," Sam said, loud enough for the room to hear him. Sam tilted his head to look at his son, eyes glinting. "Matthew."

Matt stopped struggling, tears streaking down his cheeks, and Keith's heart clenched. He looked away, giving them a moment. "Matt, it's okay."

"Enough!" Zarkon snapped. "Kogane, you WILL-"

The gun recoiled in Keith's hand. It burned. The world flashed, and Sam Holt collapsed backwards to the ground. The hole in the center of his head was jagged, and nothing like Keith had seen in the movies. As he bled out, the room seemed to cave in.

Matt practically roared, lunging at Keith, and Zarkon stood from the desk, drawing another gun and pointing it at the young man. "Another word," he hissed. "Another motion, and you will be dead. And then your sister and your mother will be hunted down, and they will die as well."

Matt clenched his mouth shut, shooting Keith a look that would have burned him on the spot if looks could kill. Zarkon waved the gun at the guards. "Get him out of here. Send the mortician for his father."

Matt was dragged from the room and Keith turned slowly to the desk, setting down the gun. His fingers were filled with pins and needles, and his ears rang. "May I be dismissed, sir?"

"One condition, Kogane."

"Sir?"

"The new address. License plates on all new cars. Work schedules. If I don't have them all by the end of the month, Matthew dies. Two days after that, your mother. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

Keith walked calmly out of the room past the guards, turned the corner, and promptly sprinted for the first bathroom.

* * *

 **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


	17. It Gets Harder

**_Head Above Water,_ Avril Lavigne. **

**Venandi: He wouldn't have made it out of the room alive if he did that. And it's an au, they're going to be a bit out of character. That's kind of the point. So it seems to be just you.**

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 4th, 2016. 8:28 pm._

Allura looked up at the knock on the door, pausing in her mopping. She blew a strand of hair from her face, tugged at the bandana that was tied around her head, and gripped her knife as she headed towards the entry.

She was surprised to find both Lance and Hunk standing there, Pidge slightly behind them. She opened the door in confusion, only to bite off her question at the sight of the man behind Pidge. "Shiro?" she managed. By the lack of surprise from the paladins, she figured that he had told them they knew one another.

Shiro gave a weak smile. "Hey."

Her eyes drifted to the prosthetic arm on his body, and then she turned back to her paladins. "Why aren't you all with your families? I would think after last night..."

"We all took time with them," Lance assured her. "But we can't let what happened slow us down."

"The sooner we take Zarkon down, the faster this city is safe for us again," Hunk agreed.

She looked at Shiro again. "How-?"

"It's a bit of a story," Shiro said with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head. "Mind if we come in?"

Allura realized belatedly that she was standing in front of the door and she squawked, moving aside and letting them all in. "Sorry," she said. "Where's Keith?"

Pidge snorted. "I think his mom is pissed at him for wrecking his bike, so she took him home."

Coran walked into the room then, his mustache twitching. If he was surprised to see Shiro, he didn't show it. "Pity. He gets last choice of bedroom, then."

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge's faces lit up, and Allura chuckled. "You three go ahead. Coran and I already have rooms, and I would like to talk to Shiro."

"You heard the lady, let's go!" Lance whooped.

They bolted up the stairs, leaving Allura to chuckle. She was glad that they had felt so comfortable coming back even after the prior events. She had been worried that she might lose her family all over again.

The thought made her breath hitch, and she turned to Shiro and gestured at the couch. "I apologize for the state of things," she laughed, tugging sheepishly at the hem of her Altea University shirt that Pidge had gotten her. She was barefoot. "We've been cleaning all day."

Shiro's smile was warm, the way she remembered it, but there was something haunting in his gaze, in the scar that crossed his nose, in the eerie glow of his prosthetic. "Not a problem. I've seen worse. How have you been?" he asked as they moved to sit.

Allura snorted and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Aside from almost getting killed this week and never being able to go in public without a disguise? All right. But you...the last time I spoke with you-"

"You were Roxanne Montgomery, if I remember," Shiro said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Looking for information about her 'missing brother' that the Galra kidnapped. Is that right?"

She flushed to her roots. "You remember that?"

Shiro gave her a small smile. "You have to...to focus on things. When..." He trailed off and looked away, fingers tapping on his thighs. He tried a different approach. "It was easier to just...think about small, mundane things. I knew the moment I met you that you were Alfor's daughter. Only Sam knew that I was in contact with you, and he'd never give anything up to the Galra, so you're safe for now."

Allura scoffed. "We were nearly blown up less than 24 hours ago. I don't know how safe that is."

"Fair point," Shiro murmured.

"You escaped," Allura noted, and she almost face palmed at the obvious statement. "How?"

Shiro pursed his lips. "One of your father's informants. Ulaz. Pidge says you have a list of Galra allies inside of the system?"

Allura blinked in surprise. "Yes. I had assumed that they had all either turned or been killed by now. It is...a relief to hear that there are still some rebels inside the compound. Let me get my father's book."

Shiro nodded and Allura ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. She passed the weight room, on her right-hand side, as she hit the second floor, and slowed as she ran into the paladins.

Hunk had chosen the first room on the left, if the way he was making up the bed was any indication. There was a vacant room across the hall from him, as well as right next to him, and she continued down the hall to her room, on the right side just before the turn in the hallway.

Lance and Pidge were further down the hall after the bend, Lance taking the last room on the left and Pidge in the room that adjoined Allura's bathroom. She was silently pleased that the girl had wanted to be close to her.

Before she could get too distracted, she ducked into her bedroom and grabbed her father's book from her shelf, turning on her heel and stepping back downstairs a little more slowly than she had left.

She sat back down across from Shiro and flipped the book open, setting it down on the coffee table. It was worn from years of finger turning, and it was much smaller than she remembered, less like an ancient spell book and more like a Harry Potter book in regards to thickness.

"The first quarter is dedicated entirely to the spies, but there is no order," she explained, dragging a finger down the list of names. "He tried to keep it alphabetized, but it grew too long. Plus he had to keep crossing people off, either because they died or because they went to Zarkon's side."

She hesitated and looked away. "I have no idea how many are left."

Shiro reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, a sad smile on his face. "It's okay. Ulaz gave me a few names. He...he had a feeling that after my escape, he wouldn't survive. I don't know if his suspicions were right or not, but...we have more than one person on our side in there."

"Our?"

Shiro pulled back, biting his lip. "I can't go back to the police force. It's corrupted, badly. They can't know I'm still here, or I could be killed. If...if it's all right with you, and with the others...I'd like to join Voltron."

Allura smiled, bringing her legs up under her, and stuck a hand out. "Welcome to the team."

Shiro grinned and took her hand with his own. "Thank you, Allura."

"Now, what were the other names Ulaz gave you?"

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 4th, 2016. 3:02 am._

When Thace opened his door at three in the morning, he didn't expect to see Keith standing there, tears streaming down his cheeks and his laptop clutched in his arms. Thace instantly pulled him inside and shut the door behind the young man, double checking to make sure that his security cameras were on a loop of him reading in bed before sitting down with Keith on the floor.

"What happened?"

"I...I had to...I had to kill him," Keith choked out, his voice hoarse.

"Had to kill who, Keith?"

"Sam."

Thace sucked in a breath. "Holt?" he asked, dread filling his stomach.

Keith nodded and Thace cursed, pulling the young man in for a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Keith. I'm sorry. Did he know? That you...?"

Keith nodded, pressing his nose into Thace's jacket. "Yeah," he croaked. "I think...I think in the last couple seconds...I think he realized. But it doesn't matter. Matt hates me, Pidge is never going to forgive me for this, I...I can't even forgive me for this."

Thace winced and pulled back, settling his hands firmly on Keith's shoulders. "Keith. Son. You came in here for a reason. It wasn't just for comfort, or you wouldn't have your computer on you. What can I do for you now?"

Keith took a shaky breath and swiped at his eyes, setting the computer down on the floor and opening it. "I've been working on this all night and I have...I have all the information Allura needs to infiltrate this base directly from the basement, dungeons up. I downloaded it while I was in Zarkon's office. But I won't be able to get it out of the base without setting off alarms."

Thace frowned. "No, you won't. That's Galra tech, they'd never let it leave the premise, at least not without searching it. What do you need from me?"

"You're the smartest tech person I know, aside from maybe Pidge. If anyone can figure out how to get it out, it's you. My biggest problem is that...the only way for this to work is if I can get Matt and some of the other prisoners in on it. The non-Galran ones. But Matt...he'll never speak to me after this. And I can't blame him."

Thace pursed his lips and reached around to his desk, digging out a flash drive and downloading a copy of Keith's plans to it before shutting the laptop and handing it back. "I'll take care of it, Keith. I'll take care of everything, I promise."

Keith hesitated, clinging to his computer. "Why?" he asked finally.

Thace took a breath and dug under his mattress, pulling out a dog tag. "Originally, my partner and I...we were part of Voltron."

He reached over and dropped the tag into Keith's hands, watching as he turned it over to reveal the Voltron's "V" logo etched into the silver. It was colored purple. "There's a nano-chip in there, it unlocks a safe."

"What safe? Where? Why can't you do it? Wait, you were part-?"

"Keith, please."

Keith shut his mouth and nodded, and Thace tucked the tag carefully into Keith's sweatshirt pocket. "I cannot freely move about this base any more. Cannot leave without guards. They consider me aging, unable to watch out for myself. I know what they're really doing is watching me. You, however, are young. They will not follow you because they know that they cannot keep up."

He stood, and Keith stood with him. "I do not know where the safe is. No one does, not even Allura. But I promise you, I will help. In two days, at midnight, go down to the dungeons. Antok is on guard. He will let you through. The cameras will be on a loop. I promise."

Keith set his back to the door, his brows furrowed. "Why does this feel final?"

Thace sighed, looking away. "It might be," he admitted.

"No. No, I'm not-!"

"Keith. This is war. I've played my part long enough. If all goes well, I will continue to play it. And if not..."

He settled a hand on Keith's shoulder and squeezed, hard, letting his fondness slip into his voice. "You have your mother. She will help you. She is as much a part of this as I am."

"Mom?"

"Have a good night, Keith."

"Thace."

Thace forced himself to glance back at the young man, where he stood framed in the doorway with a sad look in his eyes and a quivering smile on his face. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

The door shut, and Thace stared at it for a long moment before plugging the flash drive into his computer, opening up his encryption device, and shutting off his reading loop. "Here goes everything."

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 5th, 2016. 2:18 pm._

"This is certain?" Zarkon growled, his hands tightening on his chair.

Haggar tilted her head. "Yes, sir. I have confirmed video evidence from last night. Thace is a traitor."

There was an eerie silence, and then Zarkon stood without a word, hands curling into fists at his sides. He turned his back on Haggar and his shoulders bunched with tension. With a howl of rage, he flung his chair across the room, watching the wood splinter as it hit the wall.

"BASTARD," he shouted, voice cracking in anger. "That utter BASTARD. We gave him every piece of knowledge necessary to complete his missions, he has hundreds upon THOUSANDS of pages of evidence against us! Even with the amount of people we have in the police force, it would be enough to put us away for centuries."

Haggar stepped back, watching as the older man paced, his face red. "Where is he?" he snapped, whirling on Haggar. "I demand he be brought to me!"

The woman pursed her lips. "He...is out. At the restaurant."

Zarkon stormed past her without a word, leaving Haggar to spin on her heel and follow him. "Sir, it is the middle of the day, there are civilians, we can't-"

"Watch me."

* * *

 _Varkon's Cafe and Bakery. June 5th, 2016. 2:54 pm._

The door chimed as it opened and Keith looked up from the host stand, prepared with his usual greeting. The moment he laid eyes on Zarkon, however, his fake smile fell into a very real frown. "Sir," he said, dropping his tone an octave. "What-?"

"Pull the fire alarm."

"What?"

Zarkon turned on him, eyes flashing dangerously. "Pull. The. Alarm. Kogane. Unless you want everyone here to die, yourself included."

Keith nodded abruptly and scurried to the back, glancing about at the staff when he walked in. "Zarkon is here," he whispered.

Sal's gaze darkened. "You know Garret is in the back room on break?"

Keith's jaw tightened. "Yeah. Get him out. Everyone else stays."

Thace glanced up from where he had been speaking to one of the dish washers, and something about the way he looked at Keith made the young adult's gut clench.

He nodded to the alarm. "Pull that in fifteen seconds."

Keith sprinted to the back room, slamming the door open and making Hunk jump a foot and spin. "Get out."

Hunk blinked, hand slowly lowering from his chest. "What?"

Keith swallowed, scared by the lump in his throat. "Hunk," he whined. "I need you to go. Home, to Allura's, it doesn't matter. Please, you can't-"

"Keith, what's going on, what's wro-?"

The fire alarm began blaring and both men lifted their eyes to the ceiling and then each other. Something akin to concern laced Hunk's face "Keith. Tell me."

Keith licked his lips, fighting back tears. "I can't," he whispered, fingers digging through his hair. "Hunk, please, I don't...I don't want you to get hurt."

Hunk searched him for a beat, two, and then nodded. "All right," he said, voice soft. He reached out, squeezed Keith's shoulder. "I'll go. But you have to-"

"I will."

Hunk seemed to accept this and left silently through the emergency exit in the kitchen. The alarm was still blaring, but the moment Zarkon stormed in, it was so silent that even the alarm seemed stunned, missing a second in its screaming before resuming.

"Thace."

The room parted as if it was the Red Sea and Zarkon was Moses. Thace stood tall next to the dishwasher, and with a single stride, Zarkon was next to him.

"You...you are a traitor."

He phrased it so that it wasn't a question, and Keith shot his eyes to Thace's, breath catching in his throat. Thace looked over Zarkon's shoulder, a clear sign of disrespect, and his gaze locked with Keith's.

"Yes."

The alarm stopped and the room was breathless. Zarkon's neck grew red, but Keith couldn't rip his stare from Thace. His heart was in his throat, a lump clawing its way out, eyes stinging.

"You worked with her. You stole from me."

Thace still kept his eyes on Keith, the look soft, but not regretful. "Yes. The Galra are doing nothing for this city. People are too scared, too paranoid to do anything anymore outside of their basic lives. You've scared them into submission. Everyone. Even those running the other gangs, the pier, the mountains."

"Good!" Zarkon barked. "A scared city is a respectful city! They WILL respect me! YOU will respect me!"

Thace finally pulled his gaze away from Keith and turned it on Zarkon. He grew stony faced, complexion darkening. Without warning, he spit into Zarkon's face. "I have never, and will never, respect you."

The gunshot startled Keith to the point where he jumped, the tears flying to his eyes before he could stop them. Thace tottered back, hands gliding to his hip, and his jaw clenched hard. Zarkon sneered. "You would do well to learn your place."

The next shot ripped Keith's soul from his chest and a strangled shout slipped from his lips as Thace hit the kitchen floor, blood pooling under his body. Zarkon spun on him, eyes flashing. "Clean it up," he snapped. "Open back up when it's done. I will not let this interfere with my income."

He stormed from the kitchen and Keith scrambled to Thace's side, pressing two fingers to his neck. A faint pulse fluttered under his skin and Keith nearly sobbed. He was well aware of the rest of the staff watching him, but he paid them no mind.

Thace shuddered and managed to pry an eye open, the effort of it looking like it was the hardest thing he had ever done. "Don't," he whispered.

Keith blinked away the fog in his head and leaned closer. "Don't?"

Thace's look shot up to somewhere over Keith's shoulder. "Don't," he wheezed again.

Hands dragged Keith back and he shouted in anger, wrenching his gaze away and feeling bile rise in his throat as the barista, Acxa, leaned in and slit Thace's throat. He was pulled, kicking and sobbing, out into the main dining room, and firm hands gripped his shoulders. It was Sal.

"Keith. Mate, listen. You can't. You can't let them think you worked with him. Ay." He shook him a bit and Keith struggled to breathe. Sal had always been kinder than the majority of his employees, and it read in his eyes; he was haunted by what he had just seen. Perhaps not as much as Keith, but enough. "If they think that you agreed with him at all, that'll be you, okay?"

Keith shivered and drew back from Sal's touch. He nodded, breath ragged, and Sal gave his shoulder a nudge. "Go home, kid. Or...away from here. Take some time, mate. Day or two off."

Keith nodded again, numb, and then Sal was handing him a bag. "Change your jeans before you leave."

There was blood on them. He could feel it, seeping through to his skin, sticky and growing colder by the second. Keith took the clothing without a word and changed right there, shame all but gone from his body. Sal took the soiled linen from him gently and then nudged him towards the door.

Keith stepped outside into unfairly sunny weather. The breeze was delicate, caressing his cheeks, drifting his hair into his eyes, and he shut them for a moment, the pain in his chest growing until he finally managed to choke out a sob.

A large arm encircled his shoulders and Keith didn't even have to look to know that it was Hunk. Keith leaned into his body and broke, fingers curling into his button down and his legs practically giving out. A strong hand clung to his back, rubbing, and Keith knew that they were moving away from the restaurant, that Hunk was practically dragging him.

Eventually he was forced into a seat, soft and worn leather, and a door was shutting next to him. Hunk's mom's car. He leaned on the window, glass cool on his forehead, and turned his aching eyes to watch Hunk get into the driver's seat. They sat in silence for a moment, Keith's breathing slowing.

"Where am I taking you?" Hunk asked, his voice low.

Keith shuddered and dug his nails into the skin of his wrists, pressing until he felt the pin pricks of pain that signaled he wasn't totally numb. "I don't know," he croaked.

"Home?"

He flinched so violently he thought he might vomit, and Hunk instantly seemed to understand. "Okay. Trust me?"

He didn't hesitate to nod.

Hunk started the car and drove in silence for several minutes. Over that time, Keith relaxed a bit, tried to shove the image of Thace's dead face from his mind.

They pulled up to an apartment building that Keith vaguely recognized as Hunk and Lance's. He had only been there twice, once for Pidge's birthday party, the other time dropping off Hunk's backpack that he had left at work. He swallowed the anxiety. "Is-?"

"Only Lance is here. Pidge is shopping with her mom."

Keith nodded but didn't move. Hunk eyed him. "Keith, what ha-?"

"I can't."

The tremble of his voice was back, the panic underlying, and Hunk stepped off immediately. "Okay. Okay. Come on."

He climbed out of the car and Keith followed, steps slow and sluggish as they walked down the hall. The apartment smelled like spices and onion when he walked in, and tears pricked at his eyes again.

"Yo, Hunk! You're home early! Come help me in the kitchen, I need-"

Lance's voice cut off abruptly and Keith knew he had seen him, seen the way he looked, and he cursed himself for caring so much what Lance thought. Warm hands clasped at his cheeks, gentle enough that he could back out if he wanted, and Lance studied him, face soft, open. There was a glimmer of butter on his chin, and he smelled like chili flakes. "Hey, Mullet."

Keith shuddered and thumped his head onto Lance's shoulder, clutching at his back as Lance hugged him tight. He heard Hunk move to the kitchen, whether to prevent something from burning or give them some space, Keith wasn't sure. He appreciated it.

"Want to talk?"

Keith shook his head. "I c-can't," he managed.

"Okay. Okay, we got you. Long as you need, okay?"

Keith swallowed the lump that was growing again, heart quivering in his chest at the kindness he was being shown by the two.

Don't, Thace had said. What did that mean?

He had just been killed for working with Allura, of being a spy for Voltron. He was warning Keith, telling him to quit. Or maybe he was telling him not to. Thace had been more of a father to Keith than anyone else in the entire gang. He had genuinely cared, had kept every secret Keith had ever told him. He was killed by being a spy.

Keith didn't dare explain this to Lance and Hunk; they'd kick him out of Voltron without hesitation, would probably sic Coran on him, and that thought terrified him to his very core. Allura would make sure he never told Zarkon another secret again if she knew.

He'd lose his family all over again.

Standing there, clinging to Lance's jacket and listening to the sound of Hunk humming in the kitchen, Keith made a silent promise to himself.

No one else he cared about was going to die.

Not on his watch.

* * *

 **It's been a not great week. I kind of wish I could vanish off the face of the earth.**


	18. In Spite of the Ache

**Chapter 18: Rise** _ **Up,**_ **Andra Day.**

 **OppsieDasi: Same, fam. Same.**

 **Yoink, a quieter chapter, ft. big bro Shiro and Keith bonding.**

* * *

 _Lionsgate Apartments. June 6th, 2016. 9:02 am._

When Lance woke up in the morning, Keith was gone.

They had fallen asleep the night before sprawled on their sectional couch, Hunk on the far end of the sofa and Keith curled between the two of them. He had tried to insist that Lance and Hunk take their beds, but both men had declined. Lance knew that Keith would try to leave as soon as possible, and he was sure Hunk did too, so he had tried his best to make sure that didn't happen.

Lance chuckled under his breath and shook his head. He was good.

Hunk was still snoring on his end of the sofa, his face smushed into a couch cushion, so Lance eased himself from the warm comforts of his throw blanket and shut off the TV. Netflix's "Are You Still Watching?" screen had been on since two am, when they had passed out in the middle of Hercules.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Lance found a note on the table with his and Hunk's names on it, written in Keith's handwriting.

 _Thanks for last night. I appreciate what you guys did for me, even though you had no idea what happened. I promise I'll explain eventually, I just need a little while to myself. Some things happened with someone close to me, and yesterday was a struggle._

 _I'll see you at work tomorrow, Hunk, and Lance...who knows. Maybe Allura will have another mission for us soon._

 _Thanks again,_

 _Keith_

Lance sighed and set the note down, leaning on his hands and hunching over the table. He had a bad feeling in his gut, a churning in his stomach and in his brain. It was an idea he'd been toying with since meeting Keith, and it hurt to think about it now.

Not to mention, last night, when he'd gotten Keith laughing while they were all baking cookies, the way his face had lit up, the fact that there was a smear of frosting on his chin and Lance wanted nothing more than to gently swipe it off with his thumb...

Lance shivered and shut his eyes, sinking into a chair and pressing his head into his hands. He couldn't.

A careful hand settled on his back and he looked up to find Hunk there, watching him with soft eyes and a weak smile. Hunk could move quiet as a mouse sometimes, and to be frank it scared Lance a little.

He shifted under Hunk's touch, lifting a shoulder, and looked away again.

He had to get ready for work.

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 6th, 2016. 9:36 am._

Keith let himself in with the key that Pidge had given him from Allura, kicking his shoes off under the shoe stand and hanging his hoodie on the jacket rack. He missed his old jacket to pieces, but there was no way he was going to request a new one, especially not knowing it would have another tracking device in it.

He hadn't gotten a tour of the place yet, and so he was only really familiar with the living room, dining room, and kitchen. He found Coran in the kitchen, reading a newspaper and eating a piece of toast.

"Keith, my boy! What brings you here so early? Allura isn't up yet, if you're here to see her."

"No, not really," Keith said, shrugging. "Although, if she's the one with the book, I might need to wake her up anyway."

"The book?" Coran asked, lifting an eyebrow and setting his toast down.

Keith squirmed. "Yeah. The one with the Galra spies? I was...I was hoping to take a look at it. My dad had some contacts when he was still alive, and I...I don't know, I wanted to see if maybe their names were in there. I don't know if I should even bother, or anything, but it's worth a shot, right?"

Coran hummed, stroking his mustache, and then nodded once. "Of course. Well, it's usually in her room, but she and Shiro were pouring over it yesterday, so I believe that its been stored in the living room. Come along."

Keith felt a knot form in his stomach. "You know Shiro?"

"Yes indeedy. He was a reliable consultant in the police force when we were still primarily running. He and Alfor were...friends, I suppose is the right word. Allies, more like. He was good to us when we had a rough go. His escape troubles me, though," Coran admitted, flicking on the living room light and moving to the coffee table.

He pulled open a drawer and hefted the book out of it, setting it down on the wooden tabletop for Keith. "All of the allies Alfor had when things started going down are listed in the front. The ones crossed out are ones we know have been killed or turned. There's no order to it, so it may take a bit."

"You said the first part," Keith noted, lifting open the cover. "What's in the rest of it?"

Coran hummed, lifting his eyes to the ceiling as Keith sat down on the sofa and dropped his bag to the cushion next to him. "Alfor's findings, musings...almost like a journal. Aside from the more emotional bits, it's hard to make out. A lot of shorthand that Allura and I don't know. We didn't get very far in it the first time through, haven't tried since. Shiro was going through it, to see if there was any coding he might recognize from the police force, but from what I can gather, he didn't find much."

Keith nodded, dragging his legs up under him and pulling out a pen and notepad. "Thanks, Coran. Appreciate it."

"Let me know if you need help, mm? Oh, and the last bedroom is all yours."

That startled Keith out of his trance, and he looked up. "What?"

Coran's eyes twinkled and he nodded towards the door on the far side of the living room, the one opposite the entrance. "Your room. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance set it up for you."

Suddenly intrigued, Keith gathered up his supplies, book included, and stood. "Show me?"

Coran led him through the door and into a narrow hallway. Across from the living room was a sliding glass door that looked out onto a patio, and the only other rooms in the hall were a vacant bedroom filled with boxes and a bathroom at the end of the hall, next to the dining room door and a staircase.

Keith followed Coran up the winding staircase, past a weight room, and down the hall. The first room on his right had the door shut, and Coran nodded to it. "Shiro chose that one," he said, voice low. "Still sleeping, I reckon. Hunk is there-" a nod to the door across the hall "-and Allura there." He nodded again, to the room next to Shiro's.

"You're here."

He opened the door next to Hunk's room and gestured inside. Keith stepped in, jaw unhinging a little as he took in what the others had done.

The carpet was a deep, warm red color that his feet sank into as soon as he stepped inside. The walls were black with red accents that matched the carpet, and another door sat closed and opposite to him.

On his left was a wardrobe and a dresser, flush with the wall. A poster of San Francisco in the fog hovered over the dresser, and to his immediate right, along the wall adjacent with the hallway, was a desk with a rolling chair. A brand-new laptop sat on top of the desk, next to a coffee mug, and Keith choked. "Is that...mine?" he squeaked.

Coran's mustache twitched in amusement. "Yes. Allura wanted you all to have devices that were for Voltron purposes only, in case your own devices ever fell into the wrong hands. Plus, I think she noticed that you don't have a laptop."

Keith snapped his mouth shut, thinking about his tracked laptop back at Galra headquarters, and his cheeks warmed. "Wow," he murmured, dragging his eyes away from the gift.

Above the desk was a floating bookshelf on the wall, filled with mystery novels and comics. He remembered telling Lance once that he enjoyed those the most, and it warmed him to see that he had remembered.

In the corner next to the desk was a double bed with a lamp and a table next to it. It was smaller than the ones at the warehouse, but Keith had been living on a twin mattress his whole life, so even a double felt large to him.

In the corner at the foot of the bed were two lounge chairs, black leather, with white cream footstools for each and a floor lamp in between them. Next to that, a TV stand with a boom box on top instead of a TV, which was fine; Keith wasn't really a TV person anyway. Music, however, was a must.

"And through here is the bathroom," Coran noted as Keith dropped his paper and the book on the desk. He led Keith inside, flicking on the light switch by the door. "You do share it with Hunk and Lance, so since there are three rooms adjacent, we made sure it would be suitable years ago for a group."

The whole right wall was covered in mirrors. The floor and walls were tiled a light blue color, and when Keith got through the entrance, he could see two sinks off to his left instead of one. The door to Hunk's room was next to the sinks, the door to Lance's (he assumed) immediately after the mirrors.

The toilet was portioned off in a stall, which Keith found incredibly helpful, as was the shower, both located towards the back-left corner of the room. An ironing board and iron sat under the far window, unplugged, and there were multiple towel racks, both free standing and on the wall, scattered around the room.

"This is too much," Keith whispered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. "You guys didn't have to..."

Coran's hand settled onto his shoulder. "We didn't. I mean, sure, we gave you lot the rooms. But we've had this house for ages. It would've been empty up here without you all. So thank you, for making it feel a bit like a home."

Keith had been getting emotional a lot recently, and this act of kindness didn't help, so he followed Coran back into his room (HIS room) and walked him out.

The book sat on his desk when he turned, leaving the door open. It seemed to almost taunt him.

Keith pulled the desk chair out and sank down into the soft upholstery, rolling it in and tucking his feet underneath it. He set his new laptop aside on the bed and peeled back the first few pages of the book.

Antok came first. It seemed that Alfor had tried to alphabetize the book in the beginning, seeing as Antok was right towards the top of the first page. Keith jotted the name down on his paper, including the odd numbers that were listed next to the name, and moved on.

It became clear that Alfor gave up on order about a third of the way through page two, where someone with a name starting with Z came directly after the letter M and then the list flipped back to R.

He skimmed after that, finding Thace amongst the mess. He paused over the name, breath hitching, and traced his fingers over the letters. He couldn't bring himself to cross his name out, and he moved on.

A sticky note in Allura's handwriting had been left next to the name Ulaz, informing him that he was the one who had helped Shiro escape. Keith recognized the name vaguely, but he couldn't place it, meaning that Ulaz wasn't high up in the rankings. That was good, seeing as they were more easily corrupted and bribed with money and power. How he had gotten Shiro out, though, remained a mystery.

At the very end of the list of allies, Keith found a separate, smaller list, titled only "Marmora." He had heard that name before, mainly told as a story to scare young Galra members into submission. The Marmora gang was filled with deviants from the Galra, people who were exiled or who went against Zarkon and managed to live.

They were spoken of as if they were ghosts, as if they were nothing but legend, but the fact that Alfor had felt the need to list them proved to Keith they were anything but. There were dates next to each of their names, from the early to mid 2000's. Keith could only hope that they were membership dates and not deaths.

He copied down the list of names and the numbers alongside them, and continued through the pages.

He froze when he spotted his name.

Or rather, his last name.

Alfor's handwriting was chicken scratch, barely legible, but Keith had worked in the restaurant industry long enough to read even the worst of the worst handwriting.

 _"New recruits K. and T. Kogane infiltrated G. HQ successfully. Communication cut off. Rendezvous at Obsv. in 48h."_

His father's name was Trevor.

Keith sucked in a shaky breath, glanced at his open door, and read on.

* * *

Shiro poked his head in about an hour later to find Keith sitting cross-legged on his bed, papers spread around him, a pencil behind his ear, and Allura's book spread open on the comforter. Keith glanced up when he tapped on the door with his prosthetic, a surprised look crossing his face. "Shiro! Come in. Sorry about the mess," he muttered, hastily scrabbling his papers together and shutting the book.

He chuckled and shut the door behind him, watching Keith silently as he cleaned.

Allura had talked to him for a while about Keith, vouching for him and his abilities, and the rest of the team had as well. It was what made Shiro trust him, despite what he knew about Keith. He knew Pidge, Allura, and Coran. Knew they weren't reckless and impulsive, that they didn't trust without reason. Lance and Hunk didn't seem the types, either.

Shiro sighed and turned Keith's chair around at the desk, sitting on it backwards and resting his chin on his arms. Keith slowed his straightening of his papers, an eyebrow quirking. "Everything okay, sir?"

"You don't need formalities, Keith. I'm not on the force anymore. I'm dead, remember?"

Keith flinched at that, a little more harshly than Shiro anticipated, and looked away, teeth worrying at his lower lip. "Right. Seriously, Shiro, I'm...I'm really sorry, about how I acted when you knew me before. I'm not that kid anymore, I-"

"Keith. I know," Shiro promised, trying to keep his voice calm. What he said would make or break their relationship, and with as rocky a start as it had gotten, it wasn't hard to break. "I know you're not. Your team vouches for you, and that's..."

He trailed off, and Keith tilted his head at him. "That's what?"

"That's what makes this harder," Shiro murmured, rubbing his jaw.

Keith visibly tensed, his gaze flickering over Shiro's face. "Makes...what harder? Shiro, I'm really conf-"

"I know. That you...that you're in the Galra."

To his credit, Keith didn't shout, scream, or freak out. His shoulders stiffened, his knee started bouncing, and his jaw tightened. But otherwise he stayed still, his lips pressing into a thin line and his brows furrowing. "What?"

His tone was incredulous, and if it wasn't for Ulaz and his searching through the book for several hours, Shiro would've believed that he'd just made an absurd accusation. "It's okay," he promised, keeping his voice low and his body relaxed. "Ulaz, when he helped me escape...he mentioned your mother. I remembered your last name from bookings, but it didn't come back to me until I spotted it in Alfor's book."

Keith's eyes shot to the book and back to Shiro, and Shiro saw his throat visibly bob. He sat up straight, getting off the chair and moving over to the bed. Keith scrambled back, fast, and Shiro flung his hands up. "Whoa, whoa. Chill, man. Chill."

He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and leaned forwards, grabbing the book. "Your mother is Krolia," he murmured, flipping the pages. "She's been working with the Blade since before you were born, before even Alfor began fighting back. Part of the resistance in Zarkon's forces even before he fully snapped. She was crucial to the police force before it was corrupted, an inside source. We never knew her real name. Her name isn't even on Alfor's list, just in his entries."

Shiro could feel Keith staring at him, but he kept his eyes on the page, fingers tracing Alfor's scribblings. He stopped on the entry with Krolia's name and tapped it twice, humming. "When I first realized you were her son, I freaked out a little. She was so far undercover that I knew you couldn't have any idea who she really was."

He shut the book again, staring at Keith's carpet. "You being part of Voltron could only mean that Zarkon placed you here. So tell me, Keith," he said finally, looking up and locking gazes with the man in front of him. "Are you here to betray them, or help them?"

"Help," Keith snapped, and the immediacy and vigor with which he said it instantly made Shiro relax. Keith slumped when Shiro didn't say anything else, and he looked away. "I...you're right," he admitted softly. "He put me here initially, to gain intel, so he could kill Allura and Coran."

As Keith spoke, telling his story, his body tone shifted until he was leaning comfortably against the wall, fiddling with a bouncy ball that looked like one of Pidge's between his fingers.

"After they blew up the original base I think was when I was finally convinced that I didn't want to help anymore. At first I was doing it for my mom and Thace, but then..."

Keith's breathing hitched and he pressed a hand to his mouth, shutting his eyes. Shiro felt a stab of anguish at the look on his face, and he reached out a hand. Keith flinched away, shaking his head. "Don't," he croaked. "You'll hate me again in a minute. I'm not done."

"Keith, you were in an awful situation," Shiro protested, pulling his hand back all the same and setting it in his lap. "There was nothing you could have-"

"I killed Sam."

It came out in a sob and Keith completely broke, tears streaking down his face and slipping into his shirt collar. He pressed both hands to his face, trembling, and it took a moment for his words to set in for Shiro.

"...Holt?"

Keith managed a single nod, whole body shaking with the effort, and Shiro swallowed hard. He looked away, eyes stinging, and forced himself to breathe. Patience.

He still stood by his statement: Keith had been in an impossible situation. Shiro was certain that Zarkon wouldn't have made Keith do something so drastic without motives. The kid was barely 21, and here he was, forced to work for a mad man, or everyone he loved was dead.

It was that thought that pushed Shiro to move his hand again, to set it on Keith's shoulder. Keith jolted at the touch, but Shiro held firm, squeezing. "I'm sorry you've had to carry that with you."

Keith seemed to almost break down further, shaking his head. "No. No, you shouldn't be apologizing. It's me, it was my fault, Pidge is never gonna...I had to _choose_ , between him and Matt, or he would have killed my mother and T-Thace, and then he k-killed Thace anyway and I picked MY mother over HER father and what kind of _friend_ does that?"

"He threatened Matt?" Shiro demanded.

Keith shivered, swiping his cheeks, and he nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Thace had a plan to break him out. Tonight. I'm meeting with Antok."

"Antok? Ulaz gave me that name," Shiro noted.

Keith nodded, rubbing his nose on his sweatshirt, and Shiro was struck again by his age. He squeezed Keith's shoulder again. "Hey. It was a shitty situation. There wasn't anything you could have done. I know Zarkon, Keith. If you hadn't done something in that moment, Sam, Matt, your mother, AND you would have died. And we would have lost our best chance at stopping Zarkon: you."

Keith frowned. "Me?"

"You said...he killed Thace," Shiro noted.

Keith winced. "Yeah. I think he sent out an alert or something and Zarkon caught him."

"So Zarkon isn't focused on you now. I'm coming with you tonight."

Keith blinked at the sudden change in topic. "What?"

Shiro smiled, soft. "I'm not letting you do this alone. Figure out a way to get me in, or take a message to Matt from me. I can even play getaway car. You're not in this alone anymore Keith."

Keith shuddered and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Why aren't you mad?" he asked finally.

"I'm seeing a kid in front of me who's grown up being told the wrong thing his whole life who has finally started to try and change that, and who has been doing it alone," Shiro murmured, leaning his head against the wall and giving Keith a small smile. "You've been doing it even under the threat of death, and you're doing it for your friends. You've done some bad things; we can't ignore that in the end. But I'm not a cop anymore. I did some things while Zarkon held me that I'm not proud of either."

Here, Shiro looked away, pressing his lips together, faces and voices and pleas filtering through his memories. Keith studied him, but before he could say anything, Shiro continued. "Matt is my friend. He'll listen to me, and he'll listen to you, once he knows what I do. I promise, Keith."

"You won't tell the others?" Keith asked.

Shiro huffed. "As much as I think we should, it could compromise a lot of things right now. If it comes down to it, I will, even if you don't want to. But for now, it's not imperative. You have to trust me, Keith. I have this city's best interest at heart, and right now, you're the one person who has a connection to both Zarkon and the heart of Voltron."

"What about Allura? Does she...it is her book," Keith whispered.

Shiro shook his head. "She went to bed before we got to those notes. I told her I finished them, which I did, and I took notes on the important stuff. She shouldn't need to go into it again."

Keith nodded, looking down at the book. His nose wrinkled. "Did you see anything in there about...about a safe?"

"A safe?"

Keith reached under his shirt and pulled out a dog tag, turning it over in his fingers. The Voltron symbol flashed on one side. "It was Thace's," he said, his voice quivering. "He said it opened a safe, but he didn't know where. It...it might help us."

Shiro shook his head. "I never heard anything about that. But I still have a contact in the police force I trust completely, so...maybe it's time I contact him."

Keith shot him a look that Shiro couldn't decipher. "Is that safe? He won't rat you out to the media or other officers?"

Shiro managed a small smile. "He wouldn't. He was my fiancé at one point in time, so if he did rat me out, then we definitely weren't meant to be."

Keith coughed, eyebrows lifting. "Your fiancé?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, no, I just...why haven't you gone to see him?"

Shiro frowned. "He lives with a roommate now, who is also a cop. But I think he's a dirty one. The rest of the time, Adam is at the station or with other people. We broke up before I went on the mission with Sam and Matt. He thought it was too dangerous."

He squeezed his prosthetic into a fist. "Guess he was kinda right."

"You're pretty bad ass, you know that?" Keith said.

There was a small, inviting smile on his lips when Shiro looked up, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Well thank you. I think. I'll keep an eye out for the safe. Now what's the plan for breaking Matt out?"

* * *

 **Ah yes, the conundrum of Adam. Don't worry - I have plans for that.**

 **Note: no hate about Season 8 in the comments, please. I very much enjoyed it, and that's not what this story is about anyway.**


	19. Somethin' Bad

**_Somethin' Bad,_** **Miranda Lambert ft. Carrie Underwood**

 **Yeah, yeah, it's country. Suck it. It fits whats all about to go down. Sue me, I enjoy this shit lol. And I'm gonna force myself back into a regular update schedule, cause I am like seven chapters ahead of where you guys are lmao**

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 6_ _th_ _, 2016. 11:43 am._

Keith had just finished outlining the layout of the Galra headquarters for Shiro when Coran tapped rapidly on his door, sticking his head inside before Keith could answer.

Shiro spun, putting himself in between the map and Coran's vision, and frowned. "Coran, what is it?"

Coran's hair was a bit wild, as if he had just been standing outside in the wind, and his breath was short. "Allura has a lead. A big one. She just got an email. From someone on the inside of the Galra."

Keith stiffened, shifting so that his folder covered the map of the compound and Shiro could relax. "How?"

Coran shook his head. "We think it might have been our signal. There isn't much Wi-Fi out here, and I hadn't had a chance to set up Pidge's router until this morning. As soon as it was done, she got the email. Come on. She's called the others, but only Pidge can make it. Hunk and Lance are at work for another few hours. Meet us downstairs in five."

He left and Keith took a deep breath, looking away. "Of course she's the only one who can make it."

Shiro squeezed his shoulder. "Hey. She doesn't know. Breathe."

"That's the worst part," Keith murmured, sliding off his bed and letting Shiro's hand fall. He grabbed his papers and set them on the desk, firmly putting the laptop on top of them. He left the book on his bed. "I want her to know."

"Keith, I do too. Trust me. But it will impair her. How did she react to knowing Matt was still alive?"

"She still did her job," Keith snapped, glaring at Shiro with fierce, faked anger. "She's resilient."

"How would she react to knowing her father is dead? And that you did it?"

Keith flinched, wrapping his arms around himself and shutting his eyes. Guilt curled through his stomach, churning it uncomfortably into nausea, and he swallowed. Shook his head. Went to the bathroom and pressed cold water onto his face, and then went back to his room where Shiro was standing, waiting for him with a sad look on his face.

"Let's go," Keith whispered, trudging past the man to the door.

"Keith," Shiro protested. "It'll be okay in the end. We have the plan. We can do this."

"It only works if Matt can get past what I did," Keith said softly, shooting Shiro a look over his shoulder. "If they all can."

"I got an email this morning from a man on the inside," Allura informed them as she paced the space between the television and the coffee table. "His name is Thace."

Keith coughed suddenly, and Shiro thumped him on the back firmly as Keith covered his mouth. Allura shot them a look of confusion, but Shiro waved his prosthetic hand at her. "He was snacking upstairs. Must have gotten something stuck in his throat."

She nodded and crossed her arms, forcing herself to stand still. "It has detailed instructions of the Galra dungeons, of vents and passageways and guard rotations. I'm sure since he sent it, Zarkon is aware of the actions and has changed the rotations, but he can't change architecture nearly as quickly. We have an opportunity."

"To what?" Keith asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"To save my father and brother," Pidge said, her eyes glittering as she looked to Allura. "Right?"

Allura nodded. "Absolutely, and any other allies we can retrieve as well. We will wait until Hunk and Lance are available, and then we'll formulate a plan for tonight."

Shiro frowned, his brow furrowing. "Allura, isn't that a little soon? We need time to make a good, solid plan, or people could die. Matt and...Matt and Sam could die."

His voice lowered a bit and Allura hesitated, glancing back down at her phone. Before she could respond, Pidge stood. "No. This is my _family_ , I need to get them out, Shiro."

"I understand that Pidge," Shiro said, lifting his hands. "But take it from someone who's been trapped by them for years. They don't do things lightly. If we get caught without a backup plan, we're dead. And so is your family."

Allura pursed her lips, studying the exchange in front of her. "Pidge, perhaps Shiro is right. When Lance and Hunk get here this evening, we'll outline a plan, carry it out tomorrow night so that we have the whole day to work through any unforeseen problems."

"But-"

"Hey," Shiro said, his voice gentle. He set a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. "If they haven't hurt them yet, they won't in the next 24 hours. It'll be okay. We'll get your family out."

Pidge swallowed and nodded, leaving the room, and Allura looked back at Keith and Shiro. "I worry for her. Could-?"

"I got it," Keith murmured.

He stood and followed Pidge out, leaving Shiro to look after him with a worried gaze, Allura sat down next to him, pulling up the blueprints Thace had sent on her tablet.

"Help me? You're much more knowledgeable about this sort of thing."

Shiro gave her a small smile. "Of course."

Keith found Pidge on the back patio, staring out over a tarp covered pool and the woods behind the house. Her arms were wrapped around her torso, one hand scrolling through her phone. She glanced up at Keith as he shut the sliding door and stepped over to stand next to her.

"You okay?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

Pidge sighed and locked her phone, tucking it into the crook of her arm and tilting her head back to stare at the sky. Her eyes shut. "No," she whispered, and her voice cracked.

Keith flinched, guilt curling through his body.

He had the sudden, baffling urge to just tell her. Tell her who he was, what he had done his whole life, that her father was dead. He wanted her to scream at him, to hit him, to...

Keith shook his head at the sudden dark thoughts coiling through his mind, shivering them away, and instead turned to Pidge and wrapped her into a tight hug, palm pressing her head to his chest.

Despite her previous cuddle sessions with Hunk and Lance, Keith knew that Pidge wasn't super affectionate, and he knew that she knew he wasn't either. Or at least, he had thought he wasn't.

But now, she curled her arms tightly around his body and squeezed, trembling. "I just want them back," she whispered. "I need to do something, I can't just sit here knowing how to get into the base and not doing anything about it."

"Pidge-"

"Thace sent us that information for a reason, clearly he wanted us to get them out!"

"Thace is probably dead for sending us that information," Keith found himself saying, his voice breaking a little more than he would have liked it to. Pidge pulled back from his grip, staring at him, and Keith looked away. "All I'm saying is...the Galra are heavily monitored. There's no way he would send that information and not get caught. They knew where our last base was, Pidge. They had to have known about this."

"All the more reason for us to break in and get them now," she argued, pulling away completely. A steely gaze slid over her eyes. "Who knows what they might do to them if we don't."

"They're going to have upped the watch on them," Keith protested, bile at the back of his throat. "If we go in now, while their guard is still up, your brother and...and father are dead, Pidge. You know that as well as I do."

"Thace sent the email a few days ago, though, we just got it! Maybe they've lightened up."

"Can you take that chance?"

Pidge slumped, looking away and kicking at a stray leaf on the ground. "No," she whispered finally.

Keith sighed. "Pidge, I'm sorry. I'm...so sorry."

His voice cracked again and Pidge looked up at him, her brows furrowed. Her gaze was softer. "What for? You're not telling me anything I don't already know, no matter how much I don't want it to be true. I can't...I can't get my dad and Matt back today. I knew that the second Allura told us about the prisoners."

Keith swallowed and looked around the patio, eyeing the sun-worn lawn chairs behind him with a kind of disgust. "Yeah, but I just...you want them back so badly. I'd give anything to have my dad back from the Galra, so I can't..."

"Oh, Keith."

Her arms latched around him again and Keith sighed, pressing his nose into her scalp and breathing, tears prickling at his eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't," he croaked, his grip tightening. "Don't apologize to me. Ever."

"But-"

"Pidge."

"Okay."

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 7_ _th_ _, 2016. 12:00 am._

Antok was the tallest man Keith had ever seen, towering at just over six and a half feet. His skin was dark, his eyes darker, and he spoke softly, more in grunts and hums than actual words. He didn't seem surprised to see Keith approach him during the graveyard shift, merely glanced towards the control room and then back to the young man in front of him.

"You have twelve minutes," he said, voice low.

Keith hesitated. Shiro was a block away in a car that Keith wasn't sure he wanted to know how he had gotten ahold of. Twelve minutes wasn't a lot of time. "Is there any way to add more time?" he asked.

Antok shook his head once, undercut glinting in the lowlight of the prison wing lighting. "No. Twelve minutes as soon as you walk through that door. I cannot help you once you leave this hallway."

Keith nodded. "I understand. Thank you."

Antok grunted and Keith stepped past him, slipping the keys from Antok's belt with a practiced hand. Antok either really didn't notice them go missing or he was just playing a role. Keith wasn't sure he would ever know.

Matt's cell, based on the blueprints Keith had, was located in a back corner, far from other prisoners. He had a feeling that Matt hadn't been cooperative and they had needed to move him. He couldn't blame him.

Matt was staring at a wall when Keith rounded the corner. The Rubik's cube he had been playing with last time Keith had seen him in here was gone. His cell was completely barren except for the clothes on his back and the single mattress he sat on.

When Matt saw him, there was a moment where disbelief crossed his face, like he couldn't believe that Keith was stupid enough to come here. It was replaced with rage seconds later, and the man stood up and slammed his palms into the bars of his cell. "How _dare you_ come here," he hissed.

Keith winced and said nothing, lowering his eyes. Matt continued, anger lacing his voice. "How dare you come here, to see me, to _mock me_ after what you did. If I wasn't held back right now-"

Keith held up the keys silently and Matt went quiet, studying the glinting ring and then Keith. His face was still contorted in anger but his eyes now held a question.

"I'm sorry," Keith whispered finally, and it felt so feeble, so useless and pathetic, that he almost laughed at himself. His words cracked when he spoke again. "I'm so sorry, Matt. I...he has my mom under his thumb, had my...had someone I considered a father, and he killed him the day after I...I'm sorry."

He felt broken as he said it, felt like they were the most worthless words he had ever uttered in his life, and he poured as much of that sentiment into them as he could. "Look, I...you won't forgive me. I don't want you to. I don't."

Matt scowled, opening his mouth, and Keith slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the picture he had stolen from Pidge that morning. It was one of the ones from her box that he and Lance had saved, a Polaroid of her and Matt, younger, selfie style, at a park that Keith assumed was Olkari territory.

He handed it over, and for a moment, Matt didn't even look at it. When he did, his breathing hitched and he was ripping it from Keith's hands. "How did you get this?" he demanded, voice sharp but quiet, knowing they couldn't be caught. "I swear to god if you hurt her-"

"I would never," Keith snapped, and it came out more protective than he had expected it to. "I...would never hurt her, Matt. Not on purpose. I don't have time to explain much, okay? But Pidge is working with Allura. With me."

Matt's anger washed away to be replaced with something more along the lines of suspicion. "The Princess? Everyone says she's dead."

Keith huffed a laugh. "Yeah right, she's saved in my phone contacts."

Matt hesitated, looking back at the picture before speaking again. "Prove it. Prove you're friends with my sister."

Keith pulled out his burner phone and turned it on without a second thought, bringing up his recent messages with Pidge and handing the whole phone over to Matt. They were generic things, memes and fangirling over TV shows, mundane, average friend things, and Matt's shoulders slumped as he read them. He handed back the phone without speaking.

"You killed our father," he said after a long beat.

Keith flinched, hard, and looked away. His eyes burned. "I know," he choked out. "And I can't...I can't change that. No excuse I can make could...it was my mother or your father, and I'd already lost my father, I couldn't...I can't. That's why I'm here now. I'm getting you out, Matt. Shiro has a car waiting for us a block away. We have maybe seven minutes."

Matt studied him. "Shiro?"

"He escaped."

"I know. But he...he knows? About you? That you're Galra?"

"Was," Keith growled, fists clenching. "My mother used to be a part of Voltron, is a part of Marmora now. She's undercover, deep, and so I was always raised here. I infiltrated Voltron originally-"

"As a way to provide information to Zarkon," Matt guessed, staring down at the picture again. His fingers were shaking. "But you...you changed sides, didn't you?"

Keith licked his lips and nodded, glancing at the time on his phone.

Matt swallowed and handed the picture back. "No."

"What?"

"I'm not going to go with you tonight."

Keith took the photo slowly. He had caught the emphasis on the last word. "If not tonight, then-?"

"I don't know," Matt admitted. His gaze was hard again, arms crossed over his chest. "But not tonight. I'm more inside than you've ever been. I know which prisoners we can trust and which would rat on us in a heartbeat. Let me get help. Let me...let me help you."

"I can't ask you to-"

"You're not."

Matt took a deep breath and rubbed his chin. "My father, his last words...he told me it was okay. Did you tell him? Did he know?"

Keith chewed on his lower lip. "I think he did, in the end," he managed.

Matt nodded and looked away. "I can't forgive you, Keith," he murmured. "Not now, anyway. Maybe not ever. But I can understand where you came from, and I can work with you. I can trust you, because if you haven't turned my sister in yet, I don't know that you will. If Shiro can work with you...I will too."

Keith swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you."

Matt stuck a hand through the bars, lifting his eyes again, and Keith finally noticed the scar that was etched into his face. "Keep me posted."

Keith took the hand and shook it, slipping Pidge's photo back into his palm. Matt's lips twitched at the feeling. "Antok is on our side," he said softly, letting his hand fall empty.

Matt pressed his hand against his leg and nodded. "Tell Shiro hi from me."

"I will."

Keith walked out, clipped the keys back to Antok's belt and shook his head, and left the prison wing with two minutes to spare.

He walked straight to Sendak's room and stepped inside the open door with a piece of paper stretched out. His hand trembled and his stomach curled. "I have a location for you and your team to infiltrate tomorrow night. Instructions are all here."

Sendak looked up from the screwdriver he currently had buried in his prosthetic and smiled, the perfect cliché of creepy Disney villain. "About time, Kogane."

* * *

 **Welp, time for work!**


	20. Deceit So Natural

_**Wolf in Sheep's Clothing,**_ **Set it Off. Added to the playlist.**

 **It's up to you to decide who the wolf is in this chapter ;)**

* * *

 _Dusty Rose Bar and Grill. June 7_ _th_ _, 2016. 7:12 pm._

"Thanks for meeting me," Keith said, moving away from the wall and falling into step with Lance. It was chilly for June, and they were both in hoodies and jeans. Keith held the door for Lance as they stepped inside to the quiet atmosphere of the dining room, the chatter and clink of beer mugs and wine glasses ringing from the adjacent bar.

"Course," Lance said, shrugging off his jacket and adjusting the sleeve of the blue V-neck he was wearing. "We never hang out one-on-one. Sorry Hunk couldn't come, he's on a date with Shay."

Lance's voice was teasing, and Keith couldn't help but smile at the sound. "He finally asked her out?"

Lance snorted and sank into a booth, waiting until Keith sat down opposite him to speak again. "Please. I'm pretty sure she thought they were already dating. So, what's the occasion?"

Keith lifted an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

Lance lifted a menu that the hostess had given them, studied it for a moment. "The occasion? Come on, you're telling me you just wanted to hang out like normal?"

Keith hesitated, dragging a finger down his own menu. "I-"

"Nobody move."

Both men froze at the sound of a gun clicking. The chatter of the room ceased instantly, the unknowing clinks from the bar continuing in the background.

Six men were gathered in the entry. One had an older woman pressed to their chest, a knife to her throat, another with a gun pressed to the hostess' temple.

Lance's hands curled into fists and his lips moved in a soundless curse. He glanced at Keith, lifting an eyebrow, and Keith tapped one finger on the table. He only had his knife on him. He lifted his eyebrow back.

Two fingers. A knife and a star, if Keith were to guess. He hadn't seen Lance use the throwing stars Allura had given him before, but he knew that Lance always had at least one on him.

Lance shook his head once, and Keith nodded back.

There were too many. They didn't have enough ammo between the two of them to safely take down the robbers and save the hostages.

"You two."

It was a growl, deep, and it was directed at them. Keith looked up, locking eyes with the ringleader through his mask, and forced himself not to react.

"What do you want?" Lance snapped, eyes narrowing.

Sendak chuckled, lips curling upwards. He turned to the other men, very prominently showing off the Galra symbol on the shoulder of his outfit, and Lance stiffened. "He wants to know what we want, boys."

The group laughed, guffawed, really, and then Sendak slammed his hand down on the table hard enough to rattle the silverware and leaned down into Lance's face. Keith licked his lips, knee starting to bounce under the table.

No reaction. He couldn't show a reaction.

"We want the Princess," Sendak said, narrowing his eyes at Lance. "Word on the street is, she's friendly with you lot."

Lance managed a snort, though Keith could see the tension in his shoulders. "Word on the street? Buddy, who the hell gives a shit about us?"

"You'd be surprised," Sendak said with a smirk. "Take them."

Lance shouted as two of the men grabbed him by the arms, and Keith flinched as two others took him as well, leaving one man to continue holding a gun to the hostess' head as they were cuffed. Sendak turned to the patrons of the restaurant. "Sorry to disturb your evening. Have a lovely night."

The door slammed behind them, bags were pulled over their heads, and Lance and Keith were shoved into the back of a truck.

Keith knew every turn, even blindfolded, knew where they were being taken, and he focused his energy on twisting around to find Lance's hands. They brushed his fingers and Lance squeezed, tight, pressing his palm flat to Keith's and letting him feel the key that was hidden there.

Keith could almost smile. He hadn't seen Lance palm the key, hadn't even seen him bend to take it, and somehow that didn't surprise him. He pressed back against the key, curling Lance's fingers around it, and scratched a soft "No" onto the back of his hand.

Lance shifted, bumping their backs together, and his free hand twined his fingers through Keith's, gentle and reassuring.

Keith knew he had nothing to worry about, and neither did Lance. This was nothing more than a forced rescue mission.

Still, he tightened his hold on Lance, if only for the moment.

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 7_ _th_ _, 2016. 8:45 pm._

"Seriously, where are they?" Pidge demanded, pacing the living room. "They promised they would help, they both did! Hunk, did you see Lance when you went home after your date?"

Hunk shook his head, looking up from his laptop. "Nope. Haven't seen him since we both left for work this morning. I'm sure they probably just got caught up doing something."

"I'm concerned too," Allura admitted. "Lance at least texts if he is going to be more than a few minutes late. They were supposed to be here 45 minutes ago."

Shiro, seated next to Hunk and also on his laptop, typed a bit. "Keith said something about them meeting up to grab dinner before coming here. He wanted to talk to Lance about something private."

A smile twitched at Pidge's lips. "Oh, so they're just macking face then, mm?"

"Afraid not," Coran interjected, looking up from his own computer. "News update says that a restaurant called the ah...the _Dusty Rose_? Was held up at gun point by Galra. Two young men taken by the Galra. The police are there now, but nothing new."

Silence permeated the room, and the Pidge spoke, soft. "How long ago?"

"About an hour and a half."

"What are the chances of coincidence?" Hunk asked. His voice trembled, with fear or rage, Pidge wasn't sure.

"None," Allura said, and her voice was definitely riddled with rage. "Pidge, can you-?"

"Already on it," she declared. Her fingers flew over her keyboard, pulling up the restaurant's security feed and winding to the time of the robbery. "Their online security is pathetic, though given that it's barely a fine dining restaurant, that's not surpr- oh."

She deflated, eyes locked on Lance and Keith as they entered the establishment together, smiling easily and talking between themselves. "Not a coincidence," she whispered.

The others gathered around her and she made the video full screen, watching as they were seated and handed menus. For a few moments, they talked, nothing happened, and, just as Keith glanced away and opened his mouth to say something, the Galra burst in.

The group watched in anger and horror as the innocent workers and old woman were pulled into the Galra's grip, as Lance and Keith held their silent conversation with their hands and eyes, and then as the tallest Galra grabbed them up and led them out.

Pidge pulled the front cameras, but they didn't swivel beyond the front door, and it only gathered her enough information to learn that the van used to take their friends was plateless.

She shut the feed down and pressed her lips together. "Where would they take them?"

"Why would they take them?" Shiro asked, his brows furrowed. "Why tonight? Why them?"

Coran was still flipping through pages on his own screen. "Eye witness statement says the guy who approached them asked about the Princess."

Everyone looked at Allura and she sucked in a tight breath. "Who knows...who knows about them working with me?"

Pidge glanced around the group, noting the way Shiro's fists clenched and his lips pursed, and then back at Allura. "Maybe it was a hunch. Maybe they've seen us together at _Varkon's._ That is on Galra territory, technically, though what isn't these days?Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. We need to rescue them."

"What about Matt and your dad?" Hunk asked, and Pidge was suddenly reminded of why they were all there in the first place.

Shiro stiffened as he looked at her, and Pidge hesitated. Anxiety pooled in her gut and she frowned, looking down at the floor. "Matt...Matt and Dad can wait. They haven't hurt them yet, they won't now. Keith and Lance are in immediate danger."

"Problem," Hunk pointed out. "We don't know where they are."

Allura frowned. "Does Lance happen to have any of his throwing stars on him?"

"He has throwing stars?" Shiro choked.

"Always keeps one or two on him," Hunk assured her. "He opens the mail with them at times. Why?"

"They have trackers in them," Allura said, looking at Pidge. "Father used them to keep from losing them in intense battles or foliage. They work via GPS. I have the code here, written down."

She dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone, pulling up the notes necessary and handing them over to Pidge. She took the device and pulled up a new page on her laptop.

Matt and her father could wait. They'd be okay. She had to believe that.

As much as Pidge knew Keith and Lance could handle themselves, they were in trouble. And she'd be damned if she lost anyone else tonight.

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 7_ _th_ _, 2016. 8:56 pm._

Lance paced the cell silently, wearing a path into the tiny floor and nearly banging his toe multiple times. They had taken Keith what felt like forever ago, dragged him out of the cell by the arms, and left Lance with nothing.

Well, not nothing.

They had taken his knife, and Keith's, but Lance's throwing star and the key he had stolen was tucked into the base of his shoes, literally. He had invested in the footwear a few weeks after starting training with Allura and Coran, finding that having a secret compartment in your shoes came in handy for more than just weapons: he had headphones, money, a lock picking kit, and an extra phone charger tucked in there.

The Galra hadn't done more than pat them both down when they got here, so Lance's stash was safe. And he knew that he could pick the lock of this cell in an instant, but without Keith to back him up, there was no way that he was getting out of here. The key didn't fit; he had already tried it, but the Galra weren't as dumb as using the same locks on all their equipment. At best, it would open handcuffs if they were used again on them if they were moved.

And he wasn't leaving Keith either. The Galra had detained him for far too long, and it was starting to grate on Lance's stomach, on his nerves.

Hence the pacing.

"You're going to wear a hole in that floor," a voice said from across the hall.

Lance glanced up at the man who had spoken, a tall, lanky guy with subtly defined arms and stubble. He was missing a finger on his left hand, and he wore baggy pants and a vest over nothing, showing off a chest that had clearly seen back-breaking labor, if the scars and muscle was anything to go by. In a shirt, the guy wouldn't look any more threatening than Lance did. Without one, he was a little scary. He looked familiar, in a distant way, like he could be related to someone you knew but probably wasn't.

"I hope so," Lance said without thinking. "Maybe it'll get me out of here."

The guy snorted. "Unlikely. The Galra have held me captive for nearly eleven months. I would know if there was a way out. It is useless to fight back."

"That's quitter talk," Lance protested, stopping to glare at the guy. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Come on, dude. No way you enjoy being here."

"I never said I enjoyed it," the man pointed out. "Just that...not fighting back is the only way to keep my family safe."

Lance hummed and sat down, leaning against the wall. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the guy was right. Pacing would do nothing. "Sorry to hear that. What's Zarkon got on you? What good are you to him?"

"I grew up on a farm, in the Balmeran section of the city."

Lance gave a faint smile. "My friend's girlfriend lives over there."

The man looked up, lifting a brow. "Oh? Perhaps I know her. It's a small community. Regardless, working on a farm means that I am strong, that I know my way around machinery and animals. Around...grotesque things."

Lance frowned. "So what, Zarkon makes you take care of his pet puppy?"

"I am his grave digger."

Ice washed over Lance and he bit back on his tongue. "Oh," he managed to choke out. "That's..."

"Horrid, I know."

"I'm sorry, dude."

The man sighed and leaned forward on his knees, clasping his hands together. "It's not ideal, but certainly not as bad as some of the others in here have it. I don't even have to touch the bodies, merely dig the holes for them. Still, it..."

Here he trailed off, and Lance sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "If we could get you out...would you want that?" he found himself asking after a long moment.

The man looked up, eyes wide. "You do not even know me. Why would you-?"

"Dude. I can care about people without knowing them. That's...kinda what I do," Lance said with a chuckle. He turned, crossing his legs under him, and smiled. "My name is Lance." He lowered his voice. "And I am a part of Voltron."

The man's eyes widened. "I had heard rumors of that gang, but I thought they were merely that – rumors. You are telling me that...that Voltron is real? It's back?"

Lance nodded. "Yes. And if I know my team, they're already on the way to get me and Keith."

"Your friend," the man guessed.

Lance hesitated and nodded, looking away. "Yeah," he murmured. "My...my friend. I hope he's okay."

The man's eyes caressed Lance's form until he nodded, satisfied. "I understand. I am sure your...friend...is all right. You really believe you can get me out?"

Lance nodded immediately. "Yes. Maybe...maybe not right away," he admitted. "But I'm willing to try."

"If you can do that and protect my family at the same time, I will agree to it."

"Of course, dude. Your name, by the way?"

He smiled and tilted his head. "My name is Rax. Rockman."

Lance frowned. "That...your last name. You said your family owned a farm?"

Rax nodded. "Yes. Myself, my sister, and our parents."

Lance frowned, sitting up straight and glancing out of his cell and down the hall. "Rax, your sister...her name isn't Shayla, by any chance, is it?"

Rax instantly clung to the bars, eyes wide. "How could you possibly know that?" he hissed, gaze flickering up and down the hall and his voice low.

Lance managed a grin. "She's dating my roommate. Kind of. Don't worry. Once we're out of here, she's totally safe. Plus, she's kind of a badass. She almost blew up our dorm once doing a chemistry project."

"And that is...badass? To destroy public property? I always told her to keep her head low, Altea College is prime Galra territory, even more so than our farms, she can't-"

"Rax. Dude. Chill," Lance breathed, holding his hands up. "She'll be okay. We all will. I promise you that."

"All right," Rax said after a long moment. "I-"

A door at the end of the hall shut and loud footsteps thundered down the corridor. Lance backed up as his cell opened and the large man who had approached them in the restaurant walked up. He practically flung Keith into the cell at Lance, who caught him and eased him to the floor.

Keith was half conscious, face and arms covered in cuts and bruises, and his breathing was ragged.

"He's a tough bastard," the man, who Lance had leaned was named Sendak, said. His lips curled into a smug grin, like he wasn't surprised by the information. "Let's see how you follow."

"No," Keith wheezed, clawing at Lance's shirt and trying to sit up. "No, you said-!"

Sendak grabbed Lance by the back of the neck and pulled him from the cell.

* * *

 **Rax wasn't a character I initially planned to have in this story; he just kind of happened. But it's fun getting to write him, given that he didn't get a whole lot of character development in the show.**

 **Rip Lance.**


	21. Someone is Gonna Pay

**_You're Gonna Go Far Kid,_ The Offspring. **

**I've drank so much tea today it's ridiculous, here's this chapter (tbh this was one of my favorite chapters to write so far).**

 **Edit: It was pointed out to me that I made...a few errors in this chapter lol, so I've replaced the previous one with this one. Sorry for any confusion!**

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 7th, 2016. 9:20 pm._

Lance's knees stung where they hit the floor, his jaw grinding at the force of the shove, and he looked up through his lashes as Sendak paced in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. The cold steel of a gun rested lightly on the bare skin of Lance's neck. "Are we gonna do this or what?" he demanded, gritting his teeth as the gun pressed harder.

Sendak looked up in surprise, like he hadn't expected Lance to talk back, and a wry smile slid over his face. "Eager to get beaten, are we?"

Lance snorted, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. "Not a chance, Sandy."

Sendak's smile was gone, replaced by a scowl. "Sure he isn't Galra? He's about as insufferable as...no matter."

Lance lifted an eyebrow and glanced back at the guard with the gun. "Seriously, though, like...I'm cuffed? What's a gun gonna do?"

"Ensure you remain cuffed," Sendak said, turning to a computer monitor in the corner of the room. "Don't think we don't know about that key you palmed, Sanchez."

Lance sucked in a tight breath and lowered his eyes. He had only been caught pick-pocketing three times in his life: the first time he and Pidge had met Hunk, and twice by his sister Veronica, when he was still learning the art.

"Where you put that key though...I'm assuming you swallowed it, though how it would be of any use to you before at least two days had passed is beyond me."

"You're planning to keep us longer than that?"

Sendak smirked at him. "I never said I was letting you go, now did I?"

He turned away from Lance again and Lance took a moment to observe his surroundings, to see if he could find a way out.

The room was the literal definition of a box, perfectly square, the walls a dark gray color. There were no windows, and only two doors, both of which were guarded on either side by two guards. There was another guard by Sendak, their hand lightly resting on the butt of their gun, and the guard behind Lance still hadn't moved. The floor was concrete, drains spotting the area in the middle and by the doors.

The computer Sendak was using was in the corner to Lance's left, opposite the door they had come in. They were still in the prison wing, Lance knew that, about 50 feet down from where his cell was. He assumed the room was soundproofed.

On the wall behind him, which Lance had only gotten a brief glimpse of when he was first led in, were weapons. Guns, knives, some swords, but mostly knives. A lot of knives. In the right scenario, he'd be invincible.

In this scenario, he got the feeling he was about to be carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

He shivered and the metal of the gun ground into his skin, pressing into the base of his skull, a violent reminder that his head could be blown off at any given moment.

Sendak turned away from the computer and strode past him to the wall behind him. The guard who had been hovering over Sendak covered the computer with a plastic screen, and Lance swallowed, looking around the room again.

The dark gray probably hid the blood, if he were to guess. And still gave the room a neutral vibe. Aesthetics. Very important.

Sendak came back into view and the gun moved away from Lance's neck, allowing him to lift his chin, only to have Sendak press the flat of a very sharp, very chilled knife to the underside of the skin.

"Now," he rumbled, canine's glinting as he smiled. "Let's see if you're chatty enough to tell me where the Princess is."

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 7th, 2016. 9:32 pm._

Coran found Shiro on the front porch, holding a cup of coffee and staring out over the city lights that blinked in the distance. He shut the door behind him and stepped out into the cool night air, cutting off the light from the inside.

"Everything all right, Shiro?" the older man asked, leaning against the railing next to him and settling on his elbows.

Shiro pursed his lips and looked down, setting his mug down on the railing and gripping onto the wood with his hands. "I can't help but feel like this is my fault."

"How so?"

"They didn't attack you guys like this until I escaped. It must be me. They must have seen me with Keith, or Pidge, or someone at the diner where I met Lance and Hunk...could they be tracking me? Through my arm?"

Coran hummed and shook his head. "Not a chance, my boy. Pidge did the scans on it, remember? She would have found something if there was. Besides, they would have attacked us if they did. And they attacked us before you returned to Voltron anyway. The other base..."

Shiro frowned and tapped his fingers on his mug, lifting it back up and taking another sip. "That's true, I guess. Are they making any headway in there?"

Coran tilted his chin down. "A bit. Pidge has pulled the best ways to infiltrate the base. The problem is that we do not know where they're being held, and running in recklessly could kill all of us. She can't get a trace on any of Lance's throwing stars, so we can only assume that something in the Galra base is blocking it's signal."

Shiro nodded and took another drink. "I might have an idea. Where they are, I mean. I might not remember much of my time there, but I do know where I was being held. Where Ulaz helped me get out."

Coran pressed his lips into a thin line, saying nothing, and Shiro shot him a side glance. "Are you okay, Coran?"

"How much of that do you know because of Ulaz and how much because of something else? Someone else?"

Shiro stiffened and Coran turned to him, lifting a brow. "Do you know how many times I've poured through Alfor's book, Shiro? It took Allura nearly eight years to open it after his death, and even then, she never got past the beginning."

"Coran-"

"But I did."

Shiro snapped his mouth shut and looked away, the slump of his shoulders letting Coran continue.

"So inform me, please, Shiro. Are we rescuing both of them?"

"Yes."

Coran nodded at the biting, firm tone, and looked back out at the city. "All right. In that case, it might be best to call Keith's mother. She is our best bet at the moment."

Shiro swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll go get it from Pidge's phone."

"No need."

Coran held out a piece of paper and Shiro took it slowly, eyeing the number and then Coran. "How-?"

"I think you all forget that I am just as adept in technology as Pidge and Hunk are. I also refuse to let anyone hurt the people I care about, Shiro."

Here, Coran turned a deadly gaze on the man. "If Keith is not-"

"He is," Shiro said, his voice soft. Gentle. "Keith has told me...has told me things about you. About how he sees you as a father figure. Yesterday, when you interrupted us in his room...we were going through the book and he was telling me about how much he's found here with you all. And he needs that. I think...I think he even deserves that. And you know how he looks at Lance. He would never hurt him. This wasn't planned, Coran. It couldn't have been."

Coran's eyes had softened and he nodded. "All right. I know Krolia was deep. So deep that I was not sure if she had turned. Keith working in Galra territory, and then infiltrating our group...I've tried my best to stay optimistic about him, Shiro. And you will not tell him I know."

Shiro jolted, looking up from the phone number in his hands. "What?"

Coran frowned and looked down. "If all you say is true...you will not tell him I know. I want him to feel he can trust me, and if he thinks I see him any differently, he will not do that. I may not know Keith as well as...as well as I'd like to, but I know that much."

Shiro sighed. "Okay. I don't like it, but okay. Thank you, Coran."

* * *

"I know how to get in," Shiro announced as he walked back inside, Coran trailing after him.

Pidge looked up, her fingers stalling over her keyboard. "What?"

Shiro leaned over Hunk's shoulder and studied the map, his eyes flickering over the landmarks and halls dotted on the screen. "There," he said, pointing to a back entrance. "It leads out into an alley, it's how Ulaz got me out. It leads directly into the prison wing."

Allura frowned. "Even so, we don't know if that's where they're being held."

"It's the only place capable of holding them," Hunk said slowly, rubbing his chin. "Lance is amazing at picking locks, which means that they've got to be in a place that's heavily guarded and literally meant for holding prisoners. He wouldn't leave without Keith, either, so since we haven't seen them yet, it means that they either aren't being kept together or he physically can't escape."

"So we get in through this back entrance. What are the locks like?" Pidge asked.

"On the outer doors, a normal electronic gate," Shiro said. "Regular locks in case of power failure."

"I'm not as good as Lance, but he's taught me the bare minimum of picking," Hunk murmured. "His kit is in his room."

"That takes care of the manual lock, and I've got the electronic," Pidge decided, fingers flying over her keyboard once more. "Once inside?"

"There's some Galra friendly's in the prison," Shiro said softly. "There for fighting or for failing missions. They'll squeal. They're not in a separate wing, either, so there's no avoiding them."

"It means we need someone small, who can avoid their gaze," Allura said.

Everyone looked at Pidge and she nodded instantly. "Yes. Don't even ask or protest, I'm going."

"Pidge-" Allura started, her voice nervous.

"Don't," she snapped. "They're my family, Allura. I'm not leaving them. And...and if I find Matt or my dad then-"

Shiro shook his head. "The regular prison is different from the prison they use for...unruly prisoners. Matt didn't start fights, but he was always angrily vocal. He's in a separate section of the wing. A-And they kept Sam with him. We won't have time. Plus, they might have moved him since I got out. I just don't know."

Pidge slumped and then straightened almost as quickly, her chin jutting out. "Okay. Okay, just Lance and Keith then. Allura, Coran, will those clings on the suit let me climb walls?"

"You are light enough that you could hang upside down with them," Coran said, nodding his head. "So yes. But Keith and Lance..."

"Yeah, getting in won't be a problem," Allura realized. "It's getting back out."

"What if you tranq the other prisoners?"

Everyone turned to stare at Hunk, who shrugged. There was an angry glint in his eyes. "What? I'm not saying we kill them, just...Pidge tranqs them as she goes past, and then they're out cold by the time she gets Lance and Keith out."

"I'd need a lot of tranqs," Pidge said slowly, She pressed a hand to the side of her neck and then nodded slowly. "But that's our best bet, Hunk's right. Coran?"

"On it. I may even have a few bombs with tranquilizer in them. Work as smoke bombs, but instead of blowing up or creating fog, they just put everyone to sleep."

"I hate to do that to the innocents in there, but it's the safest way," Shiro said with a nod.

"All right," Allura declared. She stood up and clasped her hands together. "Pidge, suit up. The rest of us will be covering you from the van. Say the word, and we come in. Shiro, is there anywhere inconspicuous we can park ourselves that is still a fast getaway?"

Shiro's lips twitched into a smile. "I think I have just the spot."

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 7th, 2016. 10:11 pm._

Keith looked up as the cell door creaked back open. Zethrid stood there, tall, foreboding, her lips pursed in a suspicious way that made Keith think she was hiding her laughter. "Runt," she grunted. "Here's your toy back."

She threw Lance in with one hand and Keith shouted. Lance hit the floor but didn't fall, his arms trembling with the effort of holding himself up. "He's a tough bastard," Zethrid noted. "Not a peep. Won't take much, though. Gonna pay a visit to a uh...Veronica, is it?"

Lance whined and Keith shot a glare at Zethrid as he moved to his side. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

"Zarkon writes my check, not you, runt."

The cell door slammed shut and Keith bent over Lance, rubbing his hand in circular motions between his shoulder blades. "What happened?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Lance looked up and Keith sucked his lower lip in between his teeth. Bruises littered his skin, that Keith expected. But running down the right side of his face, grazed over his eye lid, was a long cut, still bleeding.

It was enough.

Keith was going to kill Zarkon with his bare hands. The way he killed Thace, the way he killed Keith's father, the way he forced Keith to kill Sam. He was going to drive his knife so deep into Zarkon's throat it would sprout from the back, and then he'd remove his head.

"Hey," Lance choked. "I'm okay. Keith."

Keith shook his head. His grip on Lance's hand was tight, and he honestly didn't even remember grabbing it. He clutched harder and helped Lance to sit up on his knees. "I'm going to kill him," he whispered.

"Not yet, you're not," Lance said, voice equally quiet. "I swear, I'm fine. Bruised and a little bloody, but fine. Nothing fatal, Keith. What did they do to you?"

Keith sighed and glanced away, lifting his shirt. HIs ribs were covered in bruises, but compared to Lance, he still got off clean. It was more for show than anything. Or at least, it was supposed to have been for show.

Still, Lance's jaw clenched and his fingers lifted, dancing cold across Keith's stomach. Keith's breath hitched and he shoved his shirt down fast, cheeks hot. "That hurts," he covered.

Lance winced. "Sorry. We need to be ready."

Keith shot him a raised eyebrow. "For?"

"They're going to come get us. I know them. And...and we need to get Rax out, too."

Keith frowned. "I'm sorry, who?"

Lance nodded at the cell across from them, where Keith could see a prisoner in the corner reading a worn copy of _The Illiad._ A well-behaved prisoner, then. Not easy to help escape, those ones. "Why?" he asked, eyes flicking back to Lance.

"He's Shay's brother."

Keith blinked twice, looked back to Rax, and then to Lance again. "Like...Hunk's Shay?"

Lance nodded, rubbing his jaw and wincing when he caught at the cut, pulling away blood with his fingers. Keith scowled and tore at the hem of his shirt, wadding up the fabric and gently blotting it against Lance's cheek. "I don't know much about him. Except that Shay was convinced he was taken by the Galra. Guess she was right. His parents thought he had just…left home."

"They must not be very close then," Keith murmured, dabbing at Lance's forehead and pressing his free hand gently to his jaw to hold his face steady. They were sitting cross-legged, knees touching. Keith could feel Lance's breath on his lips. "Is it even worth it to break him out? Is the risk worth it?"

"Is letting him die any better?"

Keith hesitated, fingers pausing, and Lance shook his head. "You know it's not. Even if they don't get along...it's one more person out of Zarkon's hands."

"Easier said than done," Keith murmured.

Lance lifted his hand and wrapped it around Keith's, preventing him from dabbing at the cut any further. Keith forced himself to meet his eyes. They were deep, anxious, scared. A dot of blood clung to his eyebrow. "Keith," Lance breathed, other hand coming up to cling to the one holding Lance's chin. "It's the right thing to do."

Keith's breathing hitched and his gaze flickered. Over midnight blue seas, to the scattered, faintest star-like freckles, upturned nose, soft, peach lips.

Scarlet, curling down his neck.

The lights flickered and they jerked apart, breath rushed, staring at the ceiling. They looked back at one another and something passed between them. "Pidge," they whispered in unison.

Keith swiped at the blood trickle on Lance's neck and then stuffed the rag in his pocket. No need for Zarkon to have any more of a sample of Lance's blood than he already did.

Lance stepped to the door, calling softly to Rax. The man stood, much taller than Keith had expected, and moved to the door. His dark brown eyes were nervous. "You know what that was?"

Lance tilted his head. "We can get you out, if you let us."

Rax pursed his lips and glanced down the hall. Something steely hardened in his eyes and Keith's shoulders drooped. They didn't have the time. They couldn't. There was no way they'd be able to bypass all those guards and Galra-loyal prisoners in time. Not without-

Smoke curled around the corner and Lance abruptly lifted his collar to cover his mouth. Keith followed suit, and Rax copied them.

What on Earth?

Thuds surrounded them, fog filling the corridor, and despite his makeshift mask, Keith could taste the sweetness. One of Coran's knock-out gases, then.

A distraction.

Their gate swung open and Keith barely had time to blink before Lance was darting to Rax's cell and picking that lock as well. He hadn't even seen him pull the kit from his shoe.

Sometimes it scared Keith how good Lance was.

"This is part of the plan," Lance said as Keith rushed out to join the two. "It has to be. We'll meet Pidge there, come on."

Keith nodded and took off, Lance just behind him and Rax bringing up the rear, corner of his vest pressed to his mouth. Every single person they passed on their way out was unconscious, slumped over in the cells. As they got closer to the door, the fog got thicker. Keith prayed Lance wouldn't ask how he knew the way.

"Oh thank god."

Pidge's voice, but...above them?

He tilted his head back and would have laughed if the gas wasn't making him so dizzy. She was clinging to the ceiling, a gas mask on her face, and she dropped to the floor next to them with ease and handed over two more.

Her eyes searched Rax as Keith pulled the mask on. "I would have brought a third if I had known," she said.

Rax waved a hand. "No matter. Let's move."

He and Lance each took one of Rax's arms as the man started to sway, following Pidge's mad dash to the entrance.

The route she took the moment the cement changed to brick and pavement was well mapped into Keith's head, and he realized that it was the route he and Shiro had prepared when they had tried to break Matt out.

The van doors were open in the back, Hunk and Shiro leaning out and each clinging to a door handle. Coran was in the back, monitoring vitals on the gas masks. Allura was the driver, then. "Let's go!" Hunk hissed.

Lance and Keith shoved Rax in before them, tumbling to the floor and pulling Pidge in just as the alarms started blaring in the prison wing. Hunk and Shiro slammed the doors. The van jolted to life before they even spoke, peeling out of the alley and down the road. The moment it turned off the main street, Allura slowed her driving, blending easily with the traffic. Keith and Lance pulled off their masks and took deep breaths.

Pidge and Hunk crushed Lance in a hug, and Shiro clapped Keith on the shoulder, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Keith grunted as Pidge slammed into his chest, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Christ," he choked. He settled his hand on her head despite himself.

"You two all right?" Coran asked.

"We're okay," Lance assured him. "Check on Rax, though? He inhaled more of that smoke than we did."

Hunk's head whipped up and the blood spilled from his face. He looked like he had seen a ghost. "I'm sorry, Rax?"

"Ah," the man coughed, waving Coran off and accepting the bottle of water Pidge held out. "You must be Hunk, then. Lance said you were-"

"Dating your sister."

"Yes."

"That you haven't seen in months."

"Correct."

"Because she's convinced you're dead."

Rax pursed his lips and stared down at the water bottle. Keith held up his hands, swaying as the van turned a corner. "Wait, wait, hold on, what happened with the two of you?"

Hunk studied him, face wary, and Keith suddenly wasn't sure they should have rescued him. If Hunk was wary, that wasn't a good sign. "You were never close. You ignored Shay, disowned her activism. Look where that got you, man. When you disappeared, no one was worried about you except Shay."

Hunk's voice lifted, shrill. "Do you have ANY idea how upset she was when she figured out the Galra got you? She's been certain you were dead. The Galra told your parents you abandoned them."

"Well it's not as if I could have told her otherwise," Rax snapped, looking up. There was a growl of anger in his voice, passion in his eyes. "My time there allowed me to reflect. You do not get to judge me given that you do not even know me."

Hunk's jaw clicked audibly and Shiro held up his hands. "Okay. Okay, it's clear there's a little tension. Look, we'll drive for a bit, get suspicion off our tails, and then head back to the safe house. We can decide what to do in the morning."

Hunk's shoulders relaxed and Keith sighed, rubbing his eyes. Pidge studied them. "Did any of you gain any useful intel, at least? Rax especially?"

Rax shrugged. "I dug a lot of graves. I can tell you where many of them are. I can tell you some personal tidbits about guards who spoke liberally. That's about it."

Keith sighed again and shook his head. "Not much. Just that the guy who took us is named Sendak."

Lance looked up, finally showing his face, and Pidge shouted at the sight of the cut. Shiro instantly dove for the first-aid kit, and Keith cursed himself for not doing that as soon as they were safe. "Lance, what ha-?"

The flash drive he held up shut her up instantly. "Will this help? I swiped it off Sendak."

Keith's jaw fell. "You...while he _tortured you_?"

A wry smile slid over Lance's face. "Yeah."

He could kiss him. He could kiss him right now.

He refrained.

No one, aside from Thace, had ever gotten Galra intel out of headquarters without getting killed, not anything useful anyway. Nothing that could take Zarkon down. Nothing truly worth it, truly important.

But if Sendak had it, it was important.

* * *

 **Lance continues to be the best boi, and I'm very much enjoying playing with Coran and Rax's characters. Coran did not nearly live up to the potential he could have in the show, which is one of my only complaints about it. He's such a badass and no one acknowledges it, so I like to emphasize that in my writing.**

 **Next update features a lot of Rax and Shay, actually. It's time for another flashback ;)**


	22. From the Mountain

**_I Don't Wanna Be,_ Gavin DeGraw. **

**To everyone who asked: yes, his name is Rax lol. I totally fucked up on that one, but it's fixed now. Sorry about that.**

* * *

 _Rockman Family Farm. August 18_ _th_ _, 2015. 4:14 pm._

"Shay? What are you doing?" Rax demanded.

He stood, flabbergasted, in the door of the laundry house, eyes wide as he stared down at his sister. She was on her knees, a bottle of pesticide in her glove-clad hands. Her brows were furrowed, the paper mask on her face covering her mouth, and she stood from where she hovered over the laundry basin full of Galra uniforms. "It won't kill them," was all she said, ripping the mask from her face.

Rax hissed and darted over, yanking the bottle from her hands and hastily screwing the lid back on. "Shay, you JUST got permission to go to college this fall. Do not jeopardize that with foolish activities, w-with pettiness!"

Shay's eyes grew squinty. " _Pettiness_?" she spat, her voice hushed. "They have been breathing down our necks for years, Rax! You may have grown complacent with it, but I'm not. They have me here washing their uniforms and linens like a common housemaid. At least you and Father get to be outside! I've never seen a fucking sunrise!"

Rax jolted at the venom in her voice, clutching the pesticide bottle to his chest like a lifeline. "Shay-" he started.

She huffed and stormed past him. "Just...don't, Rax. It took forever for Mom and Dad to agree to let me go. Altea University is safer, even you have to know that."

Rax pursed his lips and turned to look at her, at how she stood, shoulders slumped, one hand on the doorway. "How much of this did you pour on?" he finally asked.

Her shoulders tensed. "Enough," she finally said, voice bitter. "It'll just give them a rash."

"You know we can't."

Shay's eyes flashed as she looked back at him. " _We_ didn't. _We_ never do anything."

Her footsteps were loud.

* * *

 _Rockman Family Farm. August 21_ _st_ _, 2015. 6:02 am._

Shay's room was barren. The poster marks on the walls were bright compared to the rest of the paper, well-worn with age. Dust was settled in the nooks and crannies, boxes shoved to every corner. A stack of clothes sat on top of one of the boxes, enough for the next 24 hours. The bedding was the only thing left unpacked, the lump snuggled under the covers breathing softly.

When she left, her bed frame would remain. Her desk, her used bookshelves from the thrift store. What made the room Shay's would be gone.

Rax felt a tightening in his chest at the sight of it all.

He and Shay had never seen eye to eye. Everyone who knew them knew that, it wasn't news. Him, growing up, getting the hard ends of the sticks, sometimes literally, from his parents. "Don't alert the Galra. Don't test the Galra. Don't fight the Galra. Keep your head low."

He stayed quiet at school. Walked away from anyone who got too close. Told on those who plotted against the Galra, watched them get taken out of school. Sometimes he wondered if his tattling had gotten them killed.

When Shay was born, he tried to implement those same thoughts and ideas on her. But where he had shied away, she flourished. She made friends, got close to people, sat with the same groups at lunch. Laughed. Played. Later, she plotted.

He had caught her one too many times, ruining a set of Galra laundry here, loosening nuts and bolts there. She was incredibly clever, always making small trouble that could never be traced back to her, would not harm, would only irritate.

Rax hadn't made the mistake he did with the students in school. He didn't tell the Galra on her, just their parents.

It was enough.

She spoke cordially to him, now. Hid from him the way he'd wanted her to hide from everyone else. It scared him, how little he knew about his sister.

Engineering.

That was the major she had announced to him and their parents the other night at supper. She was going into engineering, something Rax didn't even know she had an interest in. Her minor in psychology and sociology, the opposite end of the spectrum, but that one made more sense for her than working with her hands in that manner.

 _I've never seen a sunrise._

His breath hitched and Rax ran a hand over his mouth, looking away from her empty room as tears prickled. He fumbled for his phone, unlocking it and pulling up the weather app. The light was seeping in under the blinds, but it wasn't too late.

He stepped inside, weaving through the boxes, stepping light over the creaky floorboards. He shook her shoulder gently, keeping his touch light. "Shay," he whispered.

Her eyes squinted up at him through heavy lashes, nose wrinkling. "Rax?"

"Come on."

She sat up, rubbing an eye with her fist, and yawned. Her feet hit the floor without even a whisper of sound. Growing up around the Galra, you were used to moving lightly. "What is it?"

"Just...come on."

The Galra guard house, put on the farm under the guise of protection when Rax was just a boy, when the Balmeran gang had finally fallen, was to the West. They didn't like the sun in the mornings. That was fine with Rax and his father; it meant they had a few hours of full freedom before they were being "guarded for their own good."

Bullshit.

Rax had always known it was bullshit. He wasn't an idiot. He knew how the Galra were, who they were, what they had done to the Balmerans, the Nalquads. Even to this day, the Olkari remained the only free ones. Free, of course, being a relative term. They could never let their guard down.

Their numbers were waning.

They stepped around the squeaky steps with practiced grace, slipping onto the front porch, and Shay shielded her eyes against the brightness of the morning. "Rax, what-?"

"Just trust me, okay?"

Her look was dubious, but she didn't speak again, following him over the crest of the front hill and over to the hen house. The chickens scattered, chattering in protest as the siblings interrupted their morning prowl, and Rax took the ladder his father had leaned there to the top.

Shay climbed up after him, her breath catching in her throat, and she lowered herself to the top of the coop with reverence. For a minute, they sat.

If it had just been over the edge of the fields, the sunrise wouldn't be nearly so impressive. But Balmeran territory was situated in the hills, away from the city, and when the sun rose, it crested the mountains like something from a painting.

Slopes speckled with rose gold and deep blues created by the melting snow, bright yellow and orange bursting from behind the peak like a halo. The sky graced with shades of pink and purple and scarlet, something no phone camera could truly capture. Rax would know. He had tried.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying.

Shay glanced over at him, her eyes watering from staring so long. "What?"

Rax sighed and drew his knees up to his chin. "I'm sorry. For how I've acted our whole lives. You leaving for school made me realize that...I do not want to fight anymore. Not with you."

"Then join me, Rax," Shay pleaded. "Leave this farm, get out of this territory. We can get rid of the Galra for good, but we cannot do it under their thumbs. I'm hoping to find someone, something at school. Anyone who can help, or information on someone who can."

Rax frowned. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Just...who would watch Mom and Dad? Take care of the farm with them? Shay, I...I can't fight back. I am not that kind of person."

"You could be," she protested, settling a hand on his shoulder.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, shutting his eyes to the sunrise. "Perhaps. But...not now. I am not you, Shayla. I do not have the courage or strength that you do."

"But you could."

"Not as I am now."

Her voice grew angry. "If you're not willing to try, you will never know. How can you say you can't when you've never even tried?"

He didn't have an answer to that.

Shay left him on the roof, staring at the sun. It seemed to mock him.

* * *

 _Rockman Family Farm. August 22_ _nd_ _, 2015. 10:00 am._

Rax watched the car vanish over the hill, toting away his parents and his sister as they took her to her new dormitory. A Galra guard stood next to him, looking bored. "Can we go now?"

"You can go whenever you'd like," Rax muttered.

"Excuse me?"

Rax sighed. "I have chores."

The guard followed him all day, never helping, only "guarding."

Rax knew what it was. The guards knew that someone in the family messed with them. They never pointed fingers at Shay, though. They were nasty, disgusting excuses for humans, and Rax had heard enough things about his sister from them to make him see red. He never said anything, never did anything, knowing that if he did, Shay would get hurt.

Shay wasn't here now.

Another guard joined them at some point, the two talking quietly amongst themselves. It was as Rax was digging into the manure, turning it into a wheelbarrow to re-soil for the fall crops, that they spoke louder. To get a rile out of him. He knew that.

Had never responded.

Shay wasn't here.

"Shame the girl's gone, mm? Definitely gonna make my nights harder on me."

His fists tightened on the handle.

"Right? College ain't a place for a pretty girls. Wonder how fast she'll have her pants down."

Riling. They were riling.

"First twink she sees, I guarantee it."

Shay wasn't here.

"Nah, bet she goes for the dykes."

Riling.

"Don't matter. On her knees tonight. Shame I don't get to see it."

 _How can you say you can't when you've never even tried?_

The shovel swung.

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. August 22_ _nd_ _, 2015. 3:30 pm._

Rax groaned and pressed his hands to his eyes, the ground hard and cold under his back. Concrete. Not wood, or soil, or hay. Concrete. The only concrete on the farm was the driveway and the floor of the garage.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his head, and blinked his eyes open. He wore only his linen pants that he worked in. His feet were bare. Torso covered in bruises. Arms littered in cuts. Lifting his gaze, he found a barred door in front of him.

His breath left his throat.

Rax scrambled to his feet, silent, and clung to the bars, looking out into the corridor. "Hey! Where am I!?"

"Shut it," hissed a man across the hall. His hair was long, blonde, a scar on his cheek. He wore baggy sweats and a t-shirt. "Newbies."

"Matthew, please. Treat him kindly. You saw the condition they brought him in." An older man, in the same cell, kind, fatherly eyes studying Rax with a sad look.

"Where am I?" Rax asked, but he already knew. He knew that he already knew.

Matthew and his father looked at each other and then back at him. "Welcome to Galra prison," Matthew said dryly.

Rax leaned his forehead against the bars and shut his eyes, a weak laugh slipping from his lips. "I tried," he muttered, shaking his head. He could almost feel the looks of confusion from the other two.

"I tried, Shay. I'm sorry."

* * *

 _Altea University. October 29_ _th_ _, 2015. 7:17 pm._

"No, Mom, I'm doing fine," Shay laughed, rolling her eyes at Hunk, who was on the other side of the lounge table in his dormitory rolling the dough out for the Halloween cookies they were preparing. "Mid-terms sucked, but I did all right. All A's, except physics. B there."

"Physics is dumb," Hunk muttered, eyes twinkling as he flattened a corner. His tongue poked out as he concentrated. It was adorable.

Shay dragged her attention back to the phone. "Hey, can I talk to Rax? I want to wish him happy birthday."

Her mother's voice grew quiet, and Shay lifted an eyebrow. "Mom?"

Hunk looked up from where he was organizing the cookie cutters and she waved a hand at him. His roommate bounced into the lounge, Lance, saw she was on the phone, and waved cheerfully. She waved back and held back a giggle as Lance started trying to get at the raw cookie dough, ignoring Hunk's hissing about salmonella. "Mom, is he home?"

"He's not."

Shay frowned, brows furrowing. "Where'd he go? I've been trying to call his cell today, but he hasn't picked up. Did he drop it in the manure again?"

"No."

Something was wrong. Shay could feel it in her gut. "Mom? Where is he?"

Behind her, Hunk and Lance had stilled at the tone of her voice. She ignored them. "Mom?"

"He...isn't here anymore."

"...what does that mean?"

She didn't respond, and Shay's heart thudded. She had never gotten along with Rax, but that didn't mean she didn't love him. "Mom."

"Your brother left right after you went to school."

"Right...that was two months ago! What do you mean, left?" she demanded.

Hunk whispered something to Lance and they both picked up the cookie ingredients and took them into the kitchen off the lounge, shutting the door between them. Shay was grateful for the privacy.

"He...we got back after moving you in and the guards said he left. Refused to stay here any longer."

"That doesn't make any sense, why would he leave? He literally told me that morning that he didn't want to go anywhere else."

"I don't know, Shayla. Maybe you leaving made him change his mind."

"Well did you call Grandma? Maybe he went there."

"She hasn't heard from him, Shay. Maybe it's best. He was never happy here. I could see that, and I know you could too. So could your father. He left, didn't give us any kind of way to call him, so clearly he wanted nothing to do with us."

Her mother was angry, Shay realized. She had only ever heard her mother get angry a few times, and usually it was with her for doing something stupid, like trying to run in front of the moving tractor to get her toys. Warranted, then. Now, not so much.

"Mom, he wouldn't just-"

"Clearly we don't know what he would and wouldn't do. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Have a good night, dear."

Her mother hung up and Shay's blood ran cold. Her mother had never hung up the phone on her. Her mother had never been so angry. Rax would never leave without telling anyone where he went. Hell, he texted if he went into town for bread. He would have at least told her, right?

Shay remembered their last morning together well. It ran through her head every day she missed her family.

The Galra told her parents that Rax had left.

Rax had apologized to her for never standing up to them with her.

Hunk poked his head back into the room, eyes concerned. "Shay?"

She looked over at him and he must have read something in her eyes, because he moved to her and swept her into a tight hug, massive hands enveloping her head and her back into the warmest grip she'd ever gotten. She shuddered and pressed her face into his chest. Hunk had been the first friend she made in her intro to engineering class, despite the fact that he was older by a year. He had always been there for her, when she needed help, and she needed it now.

"I think the Galra kidnapped my brother," she choked into his chest.

Hunk's breath caught and she could feel him twist a little, peeked out from his grip to find him and Lance looking at one another, and something in their gaze made her relax. She didn't know what to do. She never really did. The pranks she played were just that – pranks. But Shay would be damned if the Galra got away with tearing her family apart.

And it looked like her friends agreed.

* * *

 **So I have started a account, which is linked on my bio page. If you decide to pledge to it, you'd get the chapter releases for all my stories 24 hours in advance to when I'd post them here. Higher tiers also get things like deleted bonus scenes, extra one shots, and the potential to give me your own prompts. Obviously I'm not asking this of those who can't afford it, but given how much free content I generate, I thought it was past time for me to make one.**

 **Thanks.**


	23. You Had a Boyfriend

_**Somebody Told Me,**_ **The Killers.**

 **This one...I really enjoyed. Adam makes an appearance, so hang tight. I wrote him kind of how I see him, based on the little we know about him, so if you're not happy with my characterization, just remember that it's my own interpretation.**

* * *

 _Rockman Family Farm. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 9:04 am._

Hunk had opted to go to Shay's alone, refusing company from Pidge and Lance, who knew Shay well, and borrowing Lance's car for the long haul up the mountainside. Both his mothers were at work, so he didn't dare try to ask for one of their cars. Lance, Pidge, and Shiro were going to try and meet up with Shiro's old partner today, he knew that.

Keith would have joined them, but Hunk was pretty sure he could only take so many days off of work before being in trouble, even if his family did own the café. Hunk himself had to close that night, which was the only reason he was up so early.

The mountain road was winding, made Hunk more nauseous than he cared to admit, so he took it slow. Or maybe he was just stalling.

Probably a combination of both.

It was interesting, the guard situation on the former Balmeran territory. To the outside world, it looked as though the guards were merely there to keep would be thieves from robbing farms of livestock, produce, and expensive equipment. Anyone in Altea, of course, knew the reality, but Hunk sometimes wondered what would happen if it was let loose to the rest of the country what kind of hold the Galra had on his city.

Then again, seeing how places like Flint were treated by the general public? Hunk wasn't sure it would make much difference.

He pulled up to the guard house, heart pounding in his chest. He had just helped three people break out of Galra prison, was helping to harbor a third fugitive, and he had stolen from the Galra multiple times, blown up some of their warehouses, and countless other antagonizing things. It wouldn't surprise him much if he was recognized.

"You're not here for a shipment," the guard said dryly.

Hunk shook his head, tongue feeling like sandpaper. "No, sir. My uh…I'm visiting my friend from school. Shay?"

The guard eyed him for a long minute, too long for Hunk's comfort, and then nodded at the house, lifting a magazine back to his face. "Go ahead."

He didn't breathe until he was all the way up the driveway and parking Lance's car. For a moment, he stared at the garage, fingers tight on the ragged edges of the seatbelt. He knew Shay hadn't wanted to come back here for the summer. But she couldn't afford an apartment yet, and her parents would have had a heart attack if Hunk had offered to let her room with him and Lance, so back to the farm house it was.

The door was loud in the mountain air and Hunk winced, patting the hood of the car. "Sorry, Blue," he muttered absently, tugging at the hem of his shirt and trudging up to the front porch.

He had opted for "casual but polite" in his wardrobe that morning, parading it in front of Rax until he gave the okay that his parents would, most likely, trust him around Shay. It helped that most of his clothes for work were nicer, allowing him to wear slacks and a soft yellow button down over a gray t-shirt without looking too weird.

A tall, older man opened the door, eyes narrowing at the sight of Hunk. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Hunk cleared his throat. "I'm uh…I'm friends with Shay? I wanted to come say hi. M-My name's Hunk," he offered, holding out a hand.

The man didn't take it, merely eyed him a little longer and then nodded curtly. "Wait here."

He shut the door and Hunk wheezed out the breath he'd been holding, letting his hand drop back to his side and squeezing it into a fist. "Right," he muttered. "Waiting."

It took almost another three minutes for the door to open, and when it did, Hunk breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Shay. She was leaning back, yelling something to her parents, dressed in a pair of Bermuda shorts, striped yellow, green, and brown, and a modest brown tank top. There were hoops in her ears, and she was wearing sandals. When she turned to look at Hunk, her face lit up, and suddenly it was like the surrounding Galra, disapproving parents, and returned-from-the-dead brother didn't matter.

"Morning," Hunk managed.

Shay's smile was warm, and she shut the door behind her, hefting a cross-body purse over her head. "Quick, before they change their minds."

Her fingers looped through his and she tugged Hunk down the steps and towards the driveway, her head tilting at the car. "Isn't this Lance's car?" she asked in confusion, sliding into the passenger's seat. Her parents had never let her get her license.

Hunk chuckled and turned Blue on, backing down the driveway before answering her. "Uh…yeah. I'm borrowing her for a while. My truck is…out of commission."

"What happened to it?" Shay asked, turning to look at him.

Hunk licked his lips, nodding politely at the guard as they drove out of the perimeter, and eased his shoulders back into a more relaxed position. "Uh….it kind of…blew up."

"It WHAT?"

He winced, turning onto the main road leading down from the Balmera farms and into the city. "Yup, pretty much. It blew up."

"It…was it the Galra?" Shay demanded.

The flinch he gave was answer enough, and Shay grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at the road. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," Hunk protested. He gnawed at his lower lip, glanced in the rearview, and pulled onto a side road, cutting the engine and turning to Shay. "But I'm telling you now. And…and I need to know that I can trust you, Shay."

Shay softened, though her eyes were hard. "Hunk. You should know me well enough to know by now that you can. What is going on?"

Hunk pursed his lips and ran a hand over his jaw. He had forgotten to shave that morning, and the stubble prickled at his skin. "Have…have you ever heard of Voltron?" he asked.

She snorted. "A child's tale my friends and I would tell at recess in grade school. Why do you ask?"

"It's real. Or…it was, a-and now it is again."

Shay stared at him for a long moment, like she wasn't sure whether or not he was going insane, and then frowned. "If…if that's true, why are you telling me this? I live on a Galra owned farm, Hunk, knowing something like that…"

"I know," Hunk whispered. "It's why I waited so long to say anything."

"How long?"

"Since…since like Christmas of last year? Basically?"

Shay's silence was deafening, and for a long minute they stared at each other, the sound of cars passing on the nearby highway a dull roar in the background. A bird flew by Shay's window. "Why are you telling me this now?" she finally asked.

Hunk turned back to the wheel, twisting the keys in the ignition and tightening his grip over the leather of Blue's wheel. "I…some things…happened last night, and…and we needed to tell you about it."

"We…Pidge and Lance?"

"Yes."

Shay nodded slowly. "Okay. Okay, I trust you. Can you tell me what things? Does it involve your truck being blown up?"

Hunk managed a laugh, pulling down the side road and following it to a connecting avenue that he knew lead up to the new hideout. "No, that's…that's pretty much old news, at this point. Heh. I…honestly, it's probably easier to show you. But you can't tell anyone."

Shay nodded, fingers tightening on her purse strap. "Okay. No one's…no one's hurt, right?"

"Not…really. Seriously?"

"Hunk, that's not helping."

Hunk sighed and pulled up the winding driveway, parking Lance's car at the side by the shed and getting out. "We have to walk the rest of the way, or the car will get stuck."

Shay nodded and climbed out of the car, and Hunk gestured her up the path. She stuck her hand in his again, tugging a short strand of hair behind her ear, and he led her up to the house. Her eyes widened as she took it all in, a giddy grin sliding over her face. "This is like…a fairy tale house from childhood. Like you see in stories."

Hunk snorted. "That's not far off, honestly."

He stopped her on the porch, turning to face her and settling his hands on her shoulders. "Shay, I…I don't know how you're going to react, so just…know that we got you as soon as we could, okay? This wasn't something I was keeping a secret from you, I swear."

She rolled her eyes. "Hunk, it's not like you murdered anyone. You…you didn't murder anyone, right?"

He didn't answer, merely dug his key out and opened the door to the living room. Coran and Allura looked up, having expected him, and turned away from where they had been talking to Rax, who was sitting in the arm chair by the television.

Shay followed him inside, pulling her purse off to set down, and Rax slowly got to his feet at the sight of her. "All right, Mr. Murderer," she joked, untangling the purse strap from her hair and looking up. "Where's the…body…"

Hunk shut the door slowly as the siblings stared at one another, and Shay's purse hit the ground. In six strides she was across the floor, faltering as she got closer.

Rax had cleaned up, borrowed some of Lance's clothing, seeing as he was the closest fit. His body was lean, malnourished, and it had taken some coaxing from Coran to get him to eat something more than water and crackers. Lance's signature baseball tee hung loose on his frame, and his threadbare linen pants had to be thrown out, exchanged for a pair of Keith's sweatpants. He was barefoot, and his hair had been pulled back that morning. There was a scar running across his forehead that Hunk hadn't seen the night before.

"Shay," he murmured.

That was all it took for Shay to move the last few feet and throw her arms around her brother, hands clutching at his shoulders as she lifted on her toes. "Oh my god," she choked. "I knew…I knew you hadn't just left, I knew something was wrong, but Mother and Father were…they were so convinced that you had just _left_ us."

Rax shook his head, shutting his eyes, and tightening his grip on her. "No. Never. I…I made a mistake, I…I fought back, retaliated. And I paid for it."

Shay pulled back, cupping his cheeks in her hands and letting out a pained sound. "You're so thin," she whined.

He smiled faintly and lifted a hand, poking at her hair. "You cut your hair."

She scoffed and looked back at Hunk, eyes watering. "Where…how…?"

"We can explain all of that," Allura promised, speaking for the first time. She offered Shay a small smile. "But your brother needs to rest some more. We only managed to rescue him last night. He was awake to see you here, but he is still weak."

As if to punctuate her sentence, Rax swayed, and Shay's grip on his arms tightened. She nodded immediately. "Yes, of course. I…"

Coran gently guided one of Rax's arms over his shoulders and smiled at the girl. "I've got him, I promise."

She nodded, watching as Coran led Rax slowly to the guest bedroom and then turned to Hunk, pointing at him and shaking her head in disbelief. "You have… _so_ much explaining to do," she choked out.

* * *

 _Hearty Bob's Bar and Diner. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 10:27 am._

"Once I've kind of…explained everything," Pidge said slowly, leaning in through the window of Shiro's rental car (which Lance still had no idea how he'd gotten, if he was as dead as the world thought), "I'll text Lance to come inside, okay?"

Shiro nodded, drumming the fingers of both hands on the steering wheel and nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Relax," Pidge said easily, a cheeky smile on her face. "I've had lunch with Adam a bunch over the last few years. This isn't suspicious to anyone."

Shiro nodded again and Pidge tapped the window, backing out and shouldering her bag as she walked inside, nodding to the family that held the door open for her. As it swung shut, Lance looked to Shiro in concern. "You okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low and rolling the window back up.

Shiro fiddled with the air conditioning, the sun already climbing at almost 80 degrees. "I'm not sure," he admitted after a long minute.

Lance fidgeted in his seat, pulling his legs up into a crossed position under him. "I know…I know I don't know you super well? But if you wanna talk, I'm all ears, man."

The look Shiro gave him was fond. "Thank you, Lance. I really do appreciate that. It's just…Adam and I didn't exactly part on great terms. I don't…I don't know how willing he will be to help us."

"How not great?"

Shiro sighed and leaned his arms on the top of the steering wheel, setting his chin on top of them. His eyes perused the parking lot. "We were engaged," Shiro said softly. For a long moment, he stayed quiet, and Lance waited patiently. "We were engaged, and I found out I had the onset of skin cancer - melanoma - right before the infiltration job was announced. I hadn't told anyone but Adam, Matt, and my mom at the time."

Lance frowned. "What about your dad?"

Shiro shook his head. "Not in the picture. Doesn't matter. But…Sam…"

He hesitated, his voice hitching ever so slightly on Sam's name, and Lance filed that away, shooting the man a sidelong look. He continued on. "Sam wanted me on the team with him and Matt. I wanted to say yes. So badly. Adam…Adam didn't. He wanted me to focus on treatment. Melanoma is pretty easily treatable, but the problem was that I wouldn't get treatment for another two months, not with the waitlist I was on for insurance coverage, and I…I didn't think the assignment would take two months. I wanted the Galra gone."

His voice was hard, and Lance looked over at him again. Shiro sighed, lowering to rest his forehead on his crossed arms. "They had killed…so many of my friends on the force at that point. Alfor was already dead when I joined the police force, so the police were the only ones left having any impact on the Galra at all, aside from the Olkari, of course. But not everyone on the force trusted them. Vigilanty-ism and all that. Frowned upon by a lot of people. I…I thought it helped. And they did. Still do."

Shiro took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes. His prosthetic twisted in his lap, forming a fist. "I wanted to take Zarkon down so badly. I had to help. Adam…Adam was pissed. He told Sam about my diagnosis, almost made it impossible for me to convince them that I was still physically and mentally able to be even on the force."

Lance frowned. "That's-"

"He ruined any trust I had in him by doing that. I…I had told him my diagnosis in confidence. Matt hadn't told anyone, even when he knew that I wanted to join him and his father on the mission. Adam broke up with me when I got approved to go on the mission and agreed to it."

Shiro fell silent and Lance twisted his shirt hem in his hands. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "Do…do you still like him?"

A soft laugh spilled from Shiro's lips. "I'm sure a part of me still does. I resented him for so long in that prison. Part of me kept arguing that he was right; the mission did go badly. I got captured. The Galra used me. But…in a way, they saved my life. They had access to the treatment I was on the waitlist for within a week of my capture. They gave it to me so they could keep using me, but…but it also helped me keep fighting back and break out.

A lot of what happened in there is still a blur to me. I think my mind has blocked some parts out, and I don't really know if I'll get those parts back. But…but ultimately, I don't regret going on the mission. We gained valuable intelligence, and we now have our greatest chance to defeat Zarkon ever."

Lance lifted an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

Shiro stiffened a bit, sitting up and reaching into the backseat of the car, grabbing a baseball cap to hide his signature white flop. "Well…we have Voltron back. You guys all have crazy incentive to take Zarkon down, especially now."

His gaze caressed over the cut on Lance's face, dragging down through his right eyebrow and slicing jaggedly around his cheek to his jaw. It was bandaged in most places, and would definitely scar. Lance ducked his head under the scrutiny. He had yet to look in a mirror.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed.

 _ **Message from: The Pidgeon**_

 _The Pidgeon: Hey. Were good. Back left corner, by the window facing the street. Its quiet in here, and I havent found any mics or cameras that don't belong to the restaurant. I texted Coran, he's covering that._

 _Lance: Sweet. Be in in a tick_

 _The Pidgeon: Also Shay is at the place btw. Theyre telling her everything_

 _Lance: Welp. Guess that secret is out the window_

He clicked his phone off and looked up at Shiro. "Ready?" he asked, soft.

Shiro managed a smile. "I feel like you can answer that question yourself."

Lance held the door open for him, glancing around as they stepped inside. No one looked at them except for Sheryl, who Lance waved at and then jutted his thumb towards Pidge. Sheryl offered him a thumbs up and Lance ducked around Shiro, settling a hand on his back. "I'll go first," he murmured, already able to see Pidge glancing up at him.

Lance had met Adam twice in his life. Once, at the funeral they'd held for Matt and Sam (he hadn't gone to Shiro's, given that he'd never met him), and the second time on the anniversary of their "deaths," when Pidge had needed moral support at lunch.

From what he had gathered, Adam was soft spoken, by the books, and not super street smart. Generally approachable and polite. He'd seemed nice. Now, with what Shiro had told him, Lance wasn't sure he liked him all that much.

"-not to freak, okay?" Pidge was saying, her hands lifting as they approached.

Adam scoffed, setting his fork down along side his salad. "Come on, Katie, just tell me."

He'd never called her Pidge.

When Adam glanced up, he saw Lance first. A hesitant smile slid over his face. "Morning. Lance, right? We've met a few times."

He stuck his hand out, standing, and his gaze locked with Shiro over Lance's shoulder.

The man's eyes went wide behind his glasses, his skin going white, and he stumbled back, a sound that suspiciously resembled a wheeze spilling from his lips. "What the fuck," he whispered. He caught his footing, slammed a hand down on the table, and spun on Pidge. "What the FUCK is going on, Katherine?" he hissed.

Shiro promptly sat down next to Pidge, leaving Lance to block Adam in, and curled his hands together on the top of the table. "Adam. We need to talk."

Adam looked between the three of them, color slowly coming back to his face, and his hand reached instinctively for the walkie he carried on his hip. He came back up empty, and Lance handed the device over to Shiro, who shut it off and put it aside. "You're not on duty," he said quietly.

"I'm on call," Adam spat.

"That was never a thing when I was on the force," Shiro said, calm. He held out his hand again, the prosthetic one this time. Lance pressed Adam's cell phone into it, and he could feel the man staring.

"Excuse me if no one wants to be on a corrupted police force in one of the worst cities in America," Adam spat. "And what now, gonna take my wallet next?"

Lance held it up. "What, did you want me to?"

Adam slumped, defeated, and stared at Shiro for a long time. Lance tossed his wallet on the table in front of him, but he didn't even flinch. "Takashi," he finally murmured. "What… _how_?"

Shiro huffed a laugh, looking down at his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "You know the force is corrupted, then?"

Adam rolled his eyes, but the spite was no longer there, the anger deflated. Lance could see that. He added Adam's car keys to the table by his wallet, and Adam didn't comment. "Everyone knows it, Takashi," he whispered. Slowly, he picked up his wallet and keys and put them back in his pocket, on the side opposite Lance. "Everyone who's ever dealt with them, ever met them. I can count on one hand the number of people in there I trust. I don't even trust my own partners."

"Who _do_ you trust?" Shiro asked. "We might need them."

"For what?"

Shiro looked pained. "What do you think, Adam? I'm sitting here, in front of you. I should be dead. Everyone thinks I am. The Galra didn't just let me go."

"That explains the stupid hat," Adam muttered. He shook his head and lifted a hand, ticking names off. "Ina, works in the 9-1-1 emergency call offices. She directs Galra calls mainly to me, because she knows I'll actually deal with them. Curtis, in the forensics department. He's a good guy, I've worked with him a lot. Two not on the force but involved in EMT services that we work with, James and Ryan. And then Nadia. One of the newer officers. I've seen her background, it's good, she's not from this city originally so she has no ties to the Galra, but she's still a rookie. I can't morally get her involved."

"We might have to," Shiro protested. "We had to start Voltron again, just to-"

"I'm sorry, what?" Adam demanded. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed. "You pulled up…the vigilante team again? Seriously?"

"What do you propose we do?" Shiro snapped, trying to keep his voice low. "You said it yourself, the police force is corrupt! Who else is supposed to help?"

"I don't know!" Adam admitted. "But I sure as hell am not supporting the return of vigilantes. The moment people think they can pull a Batman and not be in trouble, this city is going to be run with Jokers and Penguins! Who is even on the team? Who the fuck did you recruit that fast?"

"He didn't recruit anyone," Lance interjected, drumming his fingers on the table. He looked up at Pidge, who nodded. "We started it without him."

Adam stared at him in disbelief, looking back to Pidge. "You two…?"

"There's seven of us, actually," Pidge said. Her voice was colder than it had been in a while, and Lance realized with a start that she didn't actually like Adam all that much. He couldn't blame her right now.

"You're practically children!" Adam protested. "No. No, give me my phone back, now."

"And what could you do?" Lance asked, spinning to face him in the booth. "What the FUCK could you do that wouldn't get all of us sitting here right now killed?"

"They wouldn't-"

"Adam, I was held captive for TWO YEARS," Shiro managed.

"The Galra kidnapped me last night," Lance growled. Adam blinked, looking at him in surprise. "All over the news, me and our friend Keith kidnapped in public, last fucking night. You know who saved us before midnight hit? Who saved me from getting more than just this fucking gouge in my face?" he said, jabbing a finger at the cut. "My friends. Fucking Voltron. They did more in less than eight hours than your force has done in the last month. I had to call my parents last night and tell them I wasn't fucking DEAD because they saw me kidnapped on the news but NO ONE from the police station went to them. No one."

He took a deep breath, surprised to find his eyes watering. "I had to tell them I couldn't come home, because I was worried I would get traced back there and they'd come after them next. Told them a vigilante group found me and saved me. We rescued someone - a civilian - who had been in there for almost a _year_ when we escaped last night. They wouldn't? Are you serious? They fucking have."

Adam swallowed, falling silent, and stared at the table for a long moment. "Your father and brother?" he finally asked, looking up at Pidge.

Pidge pursed her lips. "They still have them."

Lance didn't miss the way Shiro's eyes lowered down and away. He was pretty certain that Adam caught it, too.

"Okay," he murmured. "Okay."

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

Adam nodded, lifting his head. "Okay. I'll help. But not today. I…I need some time to think. I won't tell anyone."

Shiro frowned but handed over his walkie and cell phone. "Okay. Thank you."

Adam moved to scoot out, and Lance stood to let him from the booth. He held up Adam's keys, dangling them in his face, and Adam's breath hitched in surprise. "My family. Last night, when I was kidnapped. They were threatened. The rookie you said you trusted…can you get her to watch them?"

He locked eyes with Lance and nodded. "Yes," he said, and the way he said it made Lance trust that he would at least follow that promise, so he handed the keys back.

"Thank you."

Lance stayed standing, watched Adam leave, and then turned to look over the floor, finding Sheryl and waving her over. "Can I have a margarita, please?"

"Lance, it's not even lunch time."

"Please, for the love of god, Sheryl, I need a drink."

She gave him a sympathetic smile, glanced at the table, and tilted her head. "Drinks all around, then."

Shiro frowned a little. "Pidge-"

"Drinks all around."

She shot the group a wink and left, and Lance slumped into the booth as Shiro shook his head, though a small smile was on his face. "God fucking bless Sheryl."

* * *

 **Find yourself a waitress like Sheryl.**


	24. Doing Alright

**_Mama Look at Me Now,_ Galantis. **

**Sorry it's been a while y'all. My mental health has been...meh...and I've been struggling with writing in general recently. But thanks for sticking around anyway.**

 **This chapter features the appearance of Nadia, Veronica, and Kolivan. Also just a reminder that the chapter was available early if you follow me in My Kitchen.**

* * *

 _Sanchez Household. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 4:57 pm._

"Seriously, Hunk, it's okay," Lance chuckled, digging his keys from his pocket and looking up at his front door. "Shiro dropped me off, he and Pidge are going back to the base. I'll get my mom to drive me tomorrow morning for my shift at the school, just grab me from there after I'm done and we can go back to the apartment."

"Are you sure?" Hunk asked, his voice anxious over the line. Clanking dishes sounded in the background. "I can bring your car back to you tonight, I swear."

"Dude, I swear. I'll live. My family probably won't let me out of their sight tonight."

"As long as you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Thanks, dude."

Lance slid his phone into his pocket and glanced around, eyes lighting on the undercover cop car parked two houses down. He glanced back at his door, slid his keys into his pocket again, and jogged over to it.

The girl inside glanced up at his approach, setting down the book in her lap, and rolled down her window. "Lance, I presume?" she asked, and her eyes went to the cut on his face.

Lance winced. "Yeah. Uh…you're Nadia?"

She was practically his age, dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and a headband keeping her bangs from her face. She wore slim glasses and was dressed casually in jeans and a loose button down shirt, badge clipped to her belt alongside a gun and a taser.

"Yeah. Rizavi. Officer West said you were one of the ones kidnapped yesterday, asked that I keep an eye on your family to make sure there isn't retaliation against you. If you need anything, don't hesitate, all right?"

She held out a business card, tilting her head. "Cell is on there. Call if you need."

Lance raised an eyebrow, taking the card and letting a smile twitch on his face. "Police officers have business cards?"

Her smile was wry. "I also paint caricature portraits in my free time. Makes a surprising amount of spending money, especially in the summer when the fair is in town."

Lance chuckled and slid the card into his back pocket. "Thanks. I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Nadia gave him a wave and picked up the book again, and Lance blinked a little when he saw that the cover was written in something that looked suspiciously like Arabic.

He walked away before his mouth got ahead of him and asked where she'd learned to speak it, and approached his house again. It had never felt so overwhelming before, climbing the front steps, but he was suddenly so aware of everything. The crack on the second step up, the way the welcome mat was shifted a little too far to the left, how the Holt's dog Bae Bae was racing in their backyard, probably chasing a squirrel.

The key stuck a little in the lock, like always, and Lance wiggled it to the right and up, pushing the door with his shoulder.

His parents were still at work, he knew that. His brother Luis and his wife Lisa lived out of town with their kids. Rachel was taking summer courses at a theater school in New York. Leaving Marco, who Lance thought was probably also at work in the auto-parts store he managed, and Veronica.

The inner hall was dark, and Lance kicked his shoes off in the entrance, noting the key hooks. Only one lanyard dangled there, dotted in galaxy space print. Veronica had wanted to go to space her whole life, but her eyesight prevented her from piloting, so she remained grounded, though she was still going to school with the hopes of interning at NASA.

He shut the door quietly behind him, settling his own keys on his hook, and peeked into the living room. Nothing, TV off. Dining room empty. At the end of the hall was the kitchen. Soft music reached Lance's ears as he crossed the threshold and glanced in to find Veronica humming along to something in French (showoff was tri-lingual where the rest of the family was only bi-lingual) and slicing a couple of red peppers.

"Whatcha cooking?" Lance found himself saying without thinking.

He remembered his face the moment Veronica spun around and his smile collapsed, anxiety welling in his chest. Her knife clattered to the counter and she cussed in three languages, darting around the island in the kitchen all while frantically wiping her hands on her jeans. Her fingers were chilled, palms warm when she cupped his cheek, turning his head to stare at the cut, and then she looked at him.

"Lance," she breathed.

She crushed him in a hug and Lance let himself sink into it, eyes burning. He hadn't really thought about his family in the heat of the moment last night, in his frantic energy to escape. Even after he'd called them, assured them he was okay, it hadn't sunk in.

Now, curled into his sister's grasp, the smell of garlic heavy in the air and French pop playing the background mixed with his sister's murmuring cusses in Spanish, he realized how terrified he'd been that he might lose his family.

" _Lo siento,"_ he choked out, fingers tightening on Veronica's back.

She squeezed back. "Don't you dare apologize, you asshole."

He laughed, a watery sound, and Veronica pulled back, cussing again. " _Mierda,"_ she grumbled, trailing a finger in the air above the bandage. "Who the fuck touched you? I'll kill them myself."

"You can't," Lance whined, backing away. "You can't, please don't even joke about that."

"Well…well clearly you're in some shit, Lance! The Galra don't just…randomly kidnap people, no matter how nasty they are! What the fuck have you been doing?"

Lance winced and wrapped his arms around himself. "I…"

He was saved by the door opening, his mother walking in with a bag of groceries, father trailing behind, and suddenly the room was much, much louder. Marco wasn't far behind them, and Veronica's questions stopped.

It wouldn't be for long. She wasn't so easily placated, and Lance knew it.

* * *

 _Ryner's Bed and Breakfast. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 10:00 pm._

"Krolia. Reports?"

Krolia stood, stepping to the front of the room to stand alongside Kolivan, and she looked at the gathering of people. A small group, mostly in regular clothing, some in Galra garb, all of them looking intense. Sitting in a meeting room filled with mismatched couches and cozy armchairs, they looked out of place. "Last night, while I was on patrol with my unit in Galra command, my son orchestrated a kidnapping of himself and one of the members of the newly renovated Voltron. This threw off the Galra's scent on my son's deviance to them, and allowed the boy who was kidnapped alongside him to procure a flash drive off of Sendak himself."

Soft murmuring filled the room and Krolia gave a half smile. "Keith has aligned himself with quick witted, intelligent, and sneaky friends. They are smart, and they will do well with the information they've obtained, I can feel it."

"Is Keith aware that you know the full extent of his involvement in Voltron?" Kolivan asked.

Krolia's smile faded a bit. "No," she admitted. "I…had thought it best to distance myself for a while, let him come to me first, when he felt he could. Since Thace's passing, it…it seems he is more distant. I don't quite understand it, given that Thace surely told him of my involvement, but I plan to speak with him shortly. We need all the allies we can get, and the daughter of Alfor, alongside his personal advisor, would be dangerous allies to have on our side."

Agreeing nods, and Kolivan tilted his head. "That is all. Take the necessary precautions in leaving tonight. Antok, keep us posted on anything the Holt kid tells you. He is a valuable inside asset."

Antok grunted and left, and Krolia sighed as the room filtered out, people taking off into the woods surrounding the property, leaving the Olkari motel silently and more stealthily than when they had arrived. Kolivan shut off the lights to the main room, nodding gratefully to Ryner as they walked out, and looked sideways at Krolia. "Are you all right?"

"I cannot help but wonder if Keith doesn't trust me," Krolia murmured, stepping around to the drivers side door of her car.

"You're picking him up now, yes?"

"Yes."

Kolivan shrugged, swinging a leg over his motorcycle and picking up his helmet. "Speak with him. He may just not know how to approach you, with everything that's been going on. Also, please know that the new bike I promised for him…it's ready."

"I'll be sure to let him know. Thank you, Kolivan."

Kolivan shook his head. "Ivan outside the meetings. You know this."

"I still think its absurd."

"I'm the leader of a rebel group that the most powerful gang in the country wants dead, Krolia. I have to be a little absurd, don't you think?"

He stuck the helmet over his head, waved, and roared off. Krolia chuckled and sank into her car. For a moment, she sat in the still, quiet evening, staring blankly at the wall of the motel. Then her phone vibrated, Keith, letting her know he was done helping Hunk with closing procedures (despite the fact that he had worked the opening shift – Krolia was convinced he pulled a double to avoid her at headquarters), and she put the car in reverse.

She had exactly seven and a half minutes to figure out how to ask her son how deep into his own rebel group he was.

* * *

 _Varkon's Café and Bakery. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 10:22 pm._

Krolia's headlights washed over Keith and Hunk, who were standing in front of the entryway chatting quietly. Keith was swinging the store keys around his fingers, and he caught them easily in his palm when she pulled up. He said something to Hunk, clapping him on the shoulder, and waved as Hunk climbed into what Krolia recognized as Lance's car.

He waited until Hunk was out of the parking lot before opening the passenger side door and tossing his bag into the backseat, sliding onto the worn leather and slamming the door shut. "Hey," he said, soft.

"How was closing?" Krolia asked, holding a hand out.

Keith slapped the keys into her grasp for opening in the morning, pulling his seatbelt around and clicking it into place. "Okay. No one lingered for once, so it was quiet."

Krolia hummed but didn't start the car. She sat, hands in her lap, gaze on the wheel. She could feel Keith looking at her, and when he took in a breath to speak, she beat him to it.

"Your father worked for Alfor when we met. I worked for Zarkon. Industry wise. Before the gangs."

Keith stayed silent, and Krolia knew why: she never spoke of his father. She continued, though her hands trembled. "When Zarkon started to…to crave more…it was after his wife's death. Honerva. She died when you were barely a month old. Until then, Zarkon and Alfor were…good friends."

"I know."

She shot him a curious glance and Keith ducked his head, cheeks going pink. Krolia didn't comment, merely nodded. "I'm sure you did. But…Zarkon took Honerva's death badly. He was convinced it was Alfor's fault."

"How-?"

"She died on his territory. There was…you know Alfor used to be the mayor. There was a drive by shooting, someone who didn't appreciate his more…open policies. He was guarded, removed from the scene, but Honerva…she'd been meeting with him about a geographical discovery in the area. The shots paralyzed her, first, and then that plus the onset of an infection…she didn't make it."

"Oh."

His voice was small, like he hadn't been expecting this, and Krolia didn't blame him. "Zarkon…he grew angry. Bitter. We knew it was only a matter of time before he tried something. I…I gave you to your father, since he was under Alfor's protection. That was when the gang wars started. When…when the Blade of Marmora was created."

Keith's breath hitched and Krolia lifted her hands, setting them on the steering wheel. She needed something to settle herself. "I was one of the founding members, but Zarkon couldn't know it. He didn't know you existed then, that your father was a member of…of the Voltron coalition. Not the actual gang, but the supporting members, like the Nalquad's, or the Olkari.

Your father hated the word gang. He thought it made us sound barbaric, especially given that the Galra was the only gang that was actually violent. He used to tell me that…that Voltron, the Olkari…they were more vigilantes."

"That's what Coran said," Keith whispered, and Krolia's heart jumped. She glanced over at him, finding him staring at his hands. "I…Kolivan told me that you were a member of Voltron. The coalition. The night before he died."

Keith's chin trembled and Krolia reached a hand out, taking her son's gently. Keith squeezed. "I didn't know…I didn't know how much you knew, and I'd been keeping this to myself for so long that I…"

"Hey. Keith, baby."

He glanced up at her, tears flecking his lashes, and she squeezed again. "It's okay. Kolivan was keeping me updated with all he knew, and there's more allies in that place than you could possibly know."

Keith gave her a smile, one that looked almost impish. "I might have more idea than you think. Allura's got a book."

Krolia nodded. "I know. It was Alfor's. But those names aren't everyone. Especially since his passing. We have more now than we ever did before. Everyone wants this war to end, Keith, especially the Galra. They're tired of being under Zarkon's thumb. My question for you then…is do we have enough to advance that freedom?"

Keith faltered, his grip slipping from Krolia's. "I don't know," he admitted. "His plans…I don't know them. Not all of them. And it's…I'm still being forced to help him. Their families are…" he choked, dragging a hand to his mouth. "My friends are in trouble because of me," he whispered, his voice shaky.

"Keith, no," Krolia said, her voice firm. She turned in her seat, forcing him to look at her. "They were a part of Voltron before you even met. They would have been in this even without you. WITH you, they have their best chances."

"But they don't know."

"Not all of them, no."

Her look was pointed, and she watched Keith's face go pale. "How-?"

"Shiro and Coran gave me a call."

" _Coran?"_ Keith spat, his eyes suddenly panicked. "No, no, no, no, no, he can't know. I-If he knows, he'll tell Allura, and I-I would never be allowed to…"

"He seems to have known for a while, Keith," Krolia assured him. "And do not forget…I've known him since I was practically your age. He would have known even without your involvement."

"But-"

"I can assure you, Coran is the least of your worries. He knows good people when he sees them, he just needed that confirmation from Shiro and myself to fully confirm it. You…you must worry about the others. You need to tell them."

"I can't," Keith whispered.

Krolia shook her head. "You need to. The head of the Blade…he is the only one who knows of Zarkon's full plans. He refuses to speak to anyone, even me. We need the Princess first. We need Allura. He will not do it without her. It involves her father's plans, and only she knows how to get to them."

Keith frowned, fiddling with his seat belt. "They…does it have to do with a safe?"

Krolia tilted her head, confused. "A safe?"

"Never mind. Mom, if I…Pidge, and Hunk…Lance…after what I put them through, how I hurt them, Lance and Pidge especially, I…"

His voice dropped to a whisper and he clenched his fists in his lap.

Krolia started the engine. "You won't know until you tell them, baby."

"Not today."

"No," Krolia agreed, nose wrinkling. "No, not today. Zarkon's called for an audience with you."

"Me? Why? Last night went exactly as…" He trailed off, looking to her as she pulled from the parking lot. "The flash drive."

"He wants it back."

"But-"

"Or this time it's Lance on the line."

* * *

 **So for this fic at least, just assume that Haggar and Honerva are two different people bc I don't have the energy to come up with ways for how she lived lmao.**

 **Reviews...really mean a lot to me. Thanks in advance if you do send one.**


	25. Stringing You Along

**_Burned,_ Grace VanderWaal.**

 **Whoomp, take a shot. God I feel like I blink and two weeks have passed, but at the same time the second hand has barely moved. I'm very tired y'all.**

 **Prepare for klangst**

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 8_ _th_ _, 2016. 11:00 pm._

"Enter."

Keith stepped past the guards and lifted his head to look at Zarkon who, for once, was not behind his desk. Rather, he paced in front of it, knuckles white from his clenched fists. Keith stopped several paces away, keeping his hands loose at his sides. "Sir."

"Last night was unacceptable, Kogane," the man said immediately. No hesitation, just annoyance.

Keith forced himself to remain still. "Sir, it was a formality for Voltron, so they would-"

"Trust you?" Zarkon sneered. "Oh, I think they trust you. The way you practically cradled that…no matter. The question, then, has become this: am I able to trust you?"

Keith managed a soft laugh, one that surprised even him. "Me?" he asked in disbelief.

"You find this funny, Kogane?"

"Not at all sir," Keith said with a shake of his head. "What I find humorous is that one of your most trusted advisors allowed a mere pickpocket to steal a flashdrive, one that, as we speak, Katherine is most likely decoding. She will have information before nightfall, and if you attempt to kidnap her or retrieve it…sir, it could be detrimental to your forces. People will start to take notice that you are targeting young people, and that's never sat well in history with anyone."

Zarkon's chin was taught. "You believe what, then?"

Keith shrugged. His blood roared in his ears. "I believe that Sendak allowed him to take the flashdrive, so that he could use it as "proof" that I was turning against you."

"Given that you have not returned the drive, I still find that hard to believe," Zarkon said, eyes dark as he stared Keith down. He leaned on his desk, towering over the young man, and crossed his arms.

"Who says I haven't?"

Keith pulled out the drive from his pocket and tossed it easily to one of the guards, who fumbled to catch it. "They have a dupe. One that I had Thace prepare months ago when I first started this, just in case. I know he wound up a traitor, but that is the legit flashdrive. The one Voltron has will give them nothing they and the public don't already know. I palmed it off of Sanchez during our escape."

The silence drifted between him and Zarkon for a long several seconds. "Bring in Sendak," Zarkon finally growled, not taking his eyes off of Keith.

Keith held his stare, though he kept his hands loose, his shoulders hunched. Proving that he was tough enough to be here but weak enough to default to Zarkon. He only glanced away when the door opened and Sendak was led in.

The man looked far too cocky for someone who had let an amateur get away with valuable information. He sneered at Keith. "Little brat is finally getting his punishment? I knew the kidnapping was a set up to steal information, you just proved-"

"Silence!" Zarkon barked.

Sendak fell silent, looking to Zarkon in surprise, and the leader stood straight, pacing to stand in front of Sendak. Despite the fact that he was taller than Zarkon, he shrank under his glare. "Sir?"

"Kogane has proven nothing but competence, where you lacked sensibility. He constructed a trap to let Voltron think they have obtained information AND further their trust, and you allowed a boy to steal this groups secrets."

"But-"

"Keith brought it back."

Keith flinched just the slightest. Zarkon had never used his first name, and he didn't enjoy it. He did, however, enjoy the startled look on Sendak's face. "What? Impossible."

"For you, perhaps," Zarkon snorted. "Tell me, Sendak…do you enjoy making a fool of me? Of my generals? My plans? The election is in less than a month, we cannot afford – if Kogane had not returned the flashdrive, the plans that I have been putting into place for nearly a DECADE would have been entirely ruined in a matter of days."

Election.

This was the first Keith had heard about an election, and as Zarkon continued to rant, he racked his brain for what he meant. It was summer, the presidential election wasn't until the fall. The only other election Keith could think of was the position for mayor, which, in Altea, was voted on in the beginning of July. Zarkon wasn't in the running, he knew that much.

Granted, Keith didn't know a lot about politics. That was probably Hunk's specialty, if anyone, or Allura's. He glanced back up at the altercation in front of him to find Sendak's hands' curling into fists.

Uh-oh.

"If you would care to protect such an insolent child," Sendak snapped, "be my guest. But when it backfires on you, and this pathetic excuse for a soldier betrays you, do not come crying to me."

Zarkon's eyes were black. "I won't."

Sendak moved too slow, and Keith stiffened in anticipation as Zarkon pulled his pistol off his desk and shot Sendak point blank in the forehead. Blood splattered across the man's face and suit, and he set the gun down calmly as Sendak crumpled to the floor.

Keith's heart hammered and he forced himself to look at Zarkon as he turned, blotting his face with a tissue from his pocket. "While Sendak might have been a piece of work, he is right on one thing," the man said, looking up at Keith with a dark frown. "I do not fully trust you, Kogane."

"Understood, sir."

"You will bring me all of the information. The end of this week."

Keith's mouth went dry. "I thought I had until-"

"The end of the month. I know what I said. But time has been pushed up. And I want it by the end of the week. That won't be a problem, will it?" Zarkon asked, lifting a single eyebrow.

"No, sir."

"Good. Location of the new hideout, makes of the cars. Hell, bring me the princess herself. I don't particularly care. If you fail me…you know who's at stake now. All of them."

Keith forced himself not to react. His heartbeat was off the charts, and frankly he was amazed that he wasn't dead. His foot grew warm, and he glanced down to see Sendak's blood pooling under his Converse. "Yes sir. I understand."

"Dismissed."

* * *

 _Galra Headquarters. June 9_ _th_ _, 2016. 7:32 am._

 _ **New Text Message from: Lancey Lance**_

 _Lancey Lance: Hey Keith?_

 _Keith: When did you change your name in my phone?_

 _Lancey Lance: like a week ago_

 _Lancey Lance: you were asleep_

 _Keith: I'm changing it back_

 _Lance: rude_

 _Lance: but uh_

 _Keith: oh yeah_

 _Keith: whats up, it's like_

 _Keith: the crack of dawn_

 _Lance: could i_

 _Lance: potentially_

 _Lance: steal a ride from your mom? Maybe?_

 _Keith: I thought hunk was taking u to work?_

 _Lance: um_

 _Lance: i…I kinda got fired_

 _Lance: can u please just_

 _Keith: wait WHAT?_

 _Lance: come get me?_

 _Lance: I can pay her gas money or whatever I just_

 _Lance: can't be stuck at home right now and everyone is at work, please keith_

 _Keith: I'll be there in fifteen_

 _Lance: thx_

 _Keith: need a helmet?_

 _Lance: …._

 _Lance: wut_

 _Keith: would you like a helmet?_

 _Lance: …..you didn't_

 _Keith: maybe ;)_

 _Lance: shit_

Keith shut off his phone and heaved himself out of bed, racing around his tiny room and pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He'd ridden his motorcycle with shorts, once – ow. He'd seen people do it before, and he really wasn't sure how. The metal either burned from the sun or was frigid from the cold, not to mention the rocks that got kicked up whenever he went off road.

Keith grabbed his wallet and sunglasses and shoved his feet into a pair of Vans, slipping from his room and knocking on his mother's door lightly before remembering that she had opened at Varkon's.

He shot her a text instead, letting her know that he was taking Kolivan's offered gift in not quite that many words, and managed to get to the garage with no interaction from any other Galra members. It was too early for all of those except the ones on patrol.

Sure enough, sitting in his old bike's spot, was a brand new motorcycle, a sleek black Harley with accents of red around the wheels and handles. Keith let out a breath and a childish grin spread over his face. Okay. Harley's were fucking expensive new, he'd have to thank Kolivan sometime. If he ever fucking met him.

His helmet, blown up in the destruction of the warehouse, was foregone, and Keith slipped onto the bike, pleased to find that it was already equipped with saddlebags on the back wheel. He tossed his wallet and phone in the left one on top of what looked like a tool kit, slid his sunglasses on, and found the keys in the right bag. Attached to them was a single keychain, a small oval with a symbol etched onto it that looked like a five.

Keith stared at it for a long moment before pulling his knife off his back where it always was, slow, meticulous. He unwrapped the cloth around it, finding the same symbol he'd grown up seeing his whole life.

He'd thought it was Galra.

His mother had always told him to keep it covered, always made him keep it away unless he needed it. He had never taken it out in the compound, never shown it to anyone but his mother and Thace. The symbol had been closed off, and suddenly Keith knew why.

It wasn't one of the symbols for the Galra.

His knife carried the symbol of the Marmora.

Keith huffed a laugh, wrapping the hilt again and tightening the cloth before putting it back in it's sheath and securing it shut. His mother was clever. Very clever.

The engine practically purred under him as he turned the key in the ignition, toeing up the kickstand and straightening out. Keith sighed, flexing his fingers on the handles, and eased from the garage and onto the roads.

He'd only been to Lance's actual house once, but it was easy to get to, close to the old Nalquad portion of town off the piers. His house's lawn was filled with incredible flowers and bushes and a couple of strawberry patches that Lance had once told them his father worked with in his free time. The strawberries weren't ripe yet when Keith pulled into the driveway, but the air around the house still smelled amazing.

Lance shut the door of his house and slung a crossbody bag over his shoulder, freezing as he turned and spotted Keith on the bike. Keith could see his eyes, rimmed pink, and his stomach sank. "I thought you were kidding," Lance managed as he descended the steps.

Keith held out a hand and took Lance's bag, sticking it in one of the compartments on the back. "Nope," he said, tactfully ignoring the dark circles under Lance's eyes. His cut was uncovered today, save for a small bit on his forehead. It was an angry pink color, though the shallower sections were already starting to scab over and fade. "Coming?"

Lance nodded and slid onto the back of Keith's bike with little hesitation. His hands settled onto Keith's shoulders and Keith swallowed, glancing back. "Might want to hold on a little tighter."

Lance snorted but obliged, fingers tightening.

Keith didn't have a destination in mind and, seeing as Lance didn't voice one, for a while they just coasted around the outskirts of town, drifting into the woods of Olkari territory and reappearing at the base of Balmeran. At some point, Lance let go of his shoulders and wrapped his arms around his hips instead, face pressed into his upper back.

Keith only stopped when he felt Lance start shaking, pulling into the first parking lot he spotted, which just happened to be for Altea High, out of school for the summer. He coasted to the back of the lot, shutting off the engine and parking the bike next to a set of bleachers, and twisted around to face Lance, pulling him into a hug.

"You okay?" he asked, soft.

Lance shook his head and Keith nodded. He tightened his grip. "Want to talk about it?"

"The…they let me go. The preschool."

Keith's stomach sank. "Because of the kidnapping," he said. Not a question, but Lance answered it like one.

"Yeah. They don't want…they don't want the kids in danger. I c-can't blame them. Plus they wouldn't…with my face, I-"

Keith wrenched back, holding Lance firmly by the shoulders. "You what?" he demanded, softening a little when he saw the startled look in Lance's eyes. "So what, you'll have a scar. Big whoop. Millions of people have scars. It doesn't take away from you."

Despite his words, Keith couldn't help the coil of guilt that was churning over and over in his stomach.

Lance lost his job.

Because of him.

He got injured, in a way that would permanently scar.

Because of him.

His family was in danger.

It was Keith's fault.

Lance, Sam, Thace.

"Keith?"

"It's rugged," Keith forced himself to say, dragging himself out of his pity session. He looked back up at Lance to find him studying him carefully, and it made something in his chest flip. He offered a crooked grin. "The scar. It'll look cool once it's healed."

Lance gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. "You think?"

Keith squeezed his shoulders. "Yeah."

Lance searched him a moment longer and then nodded, swinging his leg over and off the bike. "Okay," he said, taking in their surroundings. Something in his voice was disappointed, and Keith didn't know what to make of it. "Why'd you bring us to the highschool?"

Keith shrugged, following him off the bike and pocketing his keys, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head. "No reason. It was just the first place to pull off to. You uh…you went here?"

He rocked on his heels as Lance pushed back into the football field, the metal gate screeching in protest. Lance shot him a smile, one that felt a bit more real. "Yeah. I was a cheerleader."

A beat, two, and then Keith realized he wasn't joking. "Oh. That's…"

"Lame?" Lance asked with a snort, shoving the gate into the slightly overgrown grass and jerking his head for Keith to follow. "Most of the kids in school thought so, too."

"I was gonna say it was different," Keith said truthfully, shrugging his way through the gate and following Lance onto the field, real grass giving way to fake, spongey turf. Keith tested his weight on it, his foot sinking a little and his shoes dampening with early morning dew. The lines from the last game of the school year had all but faded, leaving only faint white streaks evenly spread across the field. The bleachers were dew dappled, the goal post to his left framing the sun in an oddly satisfying way.

"I mean…the cheerleaders liked me a lot," Lance said with a shrug. Catching Keith's look, he rolled his eyes and planted a foot on the first line of bleachers, stepping up and swinging his other foot out, balancing on the balls of his right foot, treading across the metal like a tightrope walker. "Not like that, you dick."

Keith couldn't help the slight smile he gave as Lance eased up to the second row of seats, walking on his toes now with his arms outstretched, fingers arched delicately against the breeze. "Like what?"

Lance shot him a smirk over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. "You know what I mean. Guys just…never joined the team. And it's not to say that the girls aren't badass, 'cause they totally were. There's just some routines where it was helpful to have a guy on the bottom."

Keith laughed and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, following one step behind Lance in the grass, not trusting the traction of his shoes on the slippery metal. "Seems like you enjoyed it."

"I did." Lance swiveled, sliding a little, but he caught himself before he fell and started walking back. "What about you? You were homeschooled, right?"

Keith wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "Yeah. Not willingly."

An eyebrow lifted. "YOU wanted to go to school?"

His laugh was soft, and Keith rubbed the back of his neck a little self-consciously. "Yeah. I mean…kinda? There's a lot you miss out on when you're homeschooled. Social stuff. I never really…had any friends. Some…cousins," he offered, thinking of Lotor, Acxa, and some of the other, slightly younger Galra members. "But we didn't – don't – really get along."

"That sucks, dude," Lance said, so matter-of-factly that Keith couldn't help but look up at him and stare. He was balancing on the very edge of the bleacher now, tongue peeking from the corner of his lips as he walked heel to toe. His hair was mussed up, catching the sunlight, and it filtered through and made his eyes glitter.

Keith's breath caught in his chest, and Lance glanced up at the lack of response. Their eyes locked for a beat, two.

Lance slipped.

He shouted, arms pinwheeling, and Keith could only think of his injured head as he dove in and grabbed him by the shoulders and arms, letting his weight send them crashing to the astro-turf in a heap of limbs and grunts. Keith's back hit the ground and he gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. It doubled when Lance's elbow hit his stomach.

"Shit, shit, shit, are you okay?" Lance demanded, spinning and leaning over Keith.

His hand was planted on the ground next to Keith's face, water soaking between his fingers from the damp field. His hip was flush with Keith's, their faces inches apart, and Keith froze. His breath was gone for an entirely new reason now.

He couldn't help it; he reached a hand up and swiped a piece of mud off Lance's uninjured cheek. Lance jolted, eyes flickering to Keith's hand, and then back down to his face. They were so close that Keith could smell the coffee Lance had for breakfast on his breath.

He was so close. Lance's eyes drifted over his face, dipped lower, back up to his stare. He leaned in just a little further, his breath ghosting Keith's lips. Keith swallowed, throat dry.

"I'm-"

"You're beeping."

Keith felt like a fish with the way his mouth opened and closed. "I'm…huh?"

Lance's brow had furrowed and he cocked his head as he leaned back, eyeing Keith with curiosity. "You're beeping. Can't you hear it?"

Now that Keith could hear past his pounding heart, now that he was listening for it, he could kind of make out what Lance was talking about: a faint, barely there beeping noise, gentle, like an alarm that quietly roused you from sleep instead of slamming you over the head with pop-punk.

It was accompanied by a slight vibrating on his chest, one he wouldn't have noticed over the roar of his engine or the pace of his walk, and it was settled-

Keith bolted upright.

Lance sat back just fast enough that they didn't whack heads and Keith fumbled in his shirt for Thace's dog tag. He hadn't taken it off since Thace had given it to him, and now when he pulled it out, the once purple Voltron symbol was lit with a soft red color.

He heard Lance's gasp but ignored it, looking up with wide eyes and staring around the football field. What the fuck?

 _There's a nano-chip in there. It unlocks a safe._

 _What safe?_

 _I do not know where the safe is. No one does, not even Allura._

Allura, who had also been homeschooled her whole life. Who would have no reason to come near Altea High, which meant that no Galra would have a reason to come near Altea High. Which meant that it was, essentially, a neutral zone.

"Keith?"

He looked up, and the look Lance was giving him now was wary. The hand that wasn't holding him up by Keith's hip hovered over his calves, which to anyone else might be nervousness, but Keith knew that Lance had a knife on him somewhere, most likely on his leg. That stung a little, but he couldn't blame him. Right now, he had a more important focus on his mind. "Is there anywhere significant on the schoolgrounds? A…a historical section, a hidden garden, anything?"

Lance's brows furrowed further. His lips went white. His eyes searched Keith frantically, his posture, before answering. "Maybe. It depends. What are…"

He took a breath, and something in his shoulders sank. "What are they looking for?"

They.

Keith's heart thudded to a stop in his mouth and he tasted pennies. "What?" he choked.

Lance's throat bobbed. "You…there were so many signs. So many things. The…the criminal uncle, you never letting us come to your house, the way you fight…"

His eyes ducked, like he was ashamed. Words soft. "Your knife."

Keith shut his eyes tight. The world was spinning. "Say what you want to say, Lance," he whispered, and he wasn't ashamed when his voice cracked.

"You're Galra."

Keith licked his lips. Didn't respond. Somehow it was so much harder this time. Even though Shiro knew. Coran. Even though he knew he wasn't, not really.

Lance shuddered and, before Keith knew what was happening, had stood and started walking away. "Wait," he managed, his brain kicking into high gear. "Wait, Lan-LANCE."

"I can't," Lance managed. "What…what was all of this, anyway? Out here? The kidnapping? The…oh my god, the base blowing up."

His hand was reaching for his phone. Keith regretted what he was about to do, but he had no choice.

Lance was flat on his back in seconds, Keith pinning him at the wrists and his knife light on his throat. He had an absurd flashback to the night he had met Allura and Coran properly, done the same thing to Pidge. Lance's chest heaved, his eyes flashing not with anger, but with sadness. Keith swallowed. "Please," he murmured. "You have to let me explain."

"Do I have a choice at the moment?"

There was something angry there, and Keith took stock of the situation. He had a knife to Lance's throat. Lance knew – somehow – that he was Galra, or at least had suspected. They were in a location that no one would think to look for either of them for…probably days, at the least. A place that had a low population in the summer time.

He took the knife away slowly, unwrapping the handle with deliberation. The cloth fell away and he flipped the blade around so that the handle faced Lance. Keith kept it stretched there, silent, until Lance very slowly reached up and took it, his fingers slipping over Keith's as he dragged it from his grip. "It's not a Galra symbol," he said when the metal was fully gone from his hand. "It's the Blade of Marmora."

Lance's gaze flickered to the symbol, then back up to Keith. "The rebel group in Allura's book," he noted slowly.

Keith nodded, meeting his stare. They kept it up for a few seconds until finally Lance nodded. Once. Keith backed off immediately and they stood, Lance eyeing him with an unfamiliarity that Keith hated.

"Explain," Lance demanded, handing the knife back.

* * *

 _Altea High School. June 9_ _th_ _, 2016. 10:36 am._

"So Kolivan and my mom want the Blade to meet with Voltron," Keith finished, staring down at his clasped hands. "But…but he won't do it until you guys all know. About me. Which means that everyone knows what I did."

They were sitting on the bleachers now, in the shade. The sun had climbed high into the sky, enough that Keith was sweating in his jeans, but his palms were clammy, and he was grateful for the still cold metal under him. It had taken him almost 45 minutes to explain…almost everything to Lance.

There was one thing he was leaving out. The most important thing.

"Well…"

Keith looked sideways. Lance had stayed remarkably silent throughout the whole process, only speaking to clarify what Keith meant in certain places, so Keith had no way to gauge what his reaction was going to be.

He was slumped over his knees, hands tucked under his thighs and brows cinched in thought. His lips were puckered. "Well?" Keith repeated anxiously.

Lance licked his lips and looked up, shoulders slumping. "I suspected, obviously," he said. His frown deepened. "I thought…I don't know what I thought. That…that you were an agent sent to double cross Zarkon? Which I guess is kind of true. That…that you were just going along with it until you got bored and…I don't know, revealed everything? But I wasn't sure, and that's not just…" He laughed, humorless. "That's not just something you can come out and ask your friends. 'Hey, are you part of the rival gang that wants to kill everyone?' No way."

He shook his head and twisted to face Keith, his knee curling until his leg was tucked under the opposite thigh on the bleacher. He settled his hands on Keith's knees. "But you're doing it for the right reasons now," he said, gentle, impossibly gentle. "And your mom has been a part of this her whole life, and…and if Shiro and Coran know, and if they haven't said anything, then…then I won't either. Not unless you want me to."

"You don't know everything, though," Keith whispered. "I…I've killed people, before."

Lance's lips pursed. "Come on, Keith, so have I. Maybe…maybe not as deliberately, or as personally, but I-"

"Pidge's father is dead," Keith choked out. His heart hammered in his ears. His throat ached.

Lance's hands slipped from his legs. "What?" he managed.

"Her dad…I…"

Something like understanding and then horror crossed Lance's face. "He…oh my god, _you_ -?"

Tears started sliding down Keith's cheeks and he pressed his hands to his face, trembling. Nodded.

The metal in front of him creaked and Lance's footsteps sounded, slick in the grass until finally they vanished with a squeal of the gate hinge. Keith sobbed further at that, though he couldn't blame him. Pidge should know. She deserved to know, they all did.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, shaking on the bleachers, fingers twitching in his hair, before the gate sounded again.

He looked up.

Lance was crossing the field slowly. His eyes were puffy, fingers white and wrapped tight around his arms. His stance was hunched, slow, footsteps sluggish. Keith stood hesitantly. "Did-?"

"No," Lance said, soft. "I…I called Shiro."

"Oh."

They stood in silence, Keith staring at the ground, Lance gazing somewhere into the woods. "Did he-?" Keith didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"He told me…he told me it was your responsibility to tell Pidge," Lance said with a deep breath, lifting his eyes up to the sky. "And he's right. And I…I can't…I can't forgive you for doing that to one of my best friends."

Keith flinched harder than anticipated and wrapped his arms tight around his frame. "I understand," he whispered.

"But…"

But? There was a but. Keith had never had hope rise in his gut so fast. He peeked up at Lance through his bangs. His eyes were closed, mouth a line. "But?" he asked.

"You're…you're also my friend," Lance managed to get out. He dragged a hand over his jaw. Looked up at Keith with a heavy stare. "And I know you were put into a really shitty situation. I don't know that I wouldn't have made the same choice in your shoes. Even if you didn't start this out to be our friends, I…I felt like…there was something there. With…"

Something in Keith's chest ached and he stepped closer. "Lance, I-"

"With us," he finished, looking up at Keith, his breath heavy. Eyes bright. Sad. Keith froze on the spot. "Right now, I can't…I need time to process. But I'm not…I'm not leaving you here, with this. You're doing this…because you want to. Not because you have to, not anymore. Talking to Shiro helped, but I probably wouldn't have left anyway."

"I have the keys," Keith tried to joke.

The slowest eyebrow slid up Lance's head and Keith's hand flew to his pocket even while Lance lifted his key ring into the air. "You think I wouldn't have a way out of here?" Lance said. Though his voice was solemn, there was mirth on his lips. "Come on, Kogane. Don't you know me at all?"

Something in Keith eased at the teasing. "Fair point," he said, holding his hand out. Lance slapped the keys into them, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary.

"The beeping," Lance said, and for a second Keith had no idea what he was referencing. "It can only be one of two things – something in the class memorial, or the school mascot statue."

Keith pulled the dog tag out slowly. It felt…weightier, somehow, now that Lance knew what it was. "Thace said it would unlock a safe somewhere. Which place would be better for a safe?"

Lance's smile was thin but real. "Doesn't matter. If it's Alfor who hid it, I know which one it is."

He nodded, and Keith followed him through the gate and towards the front of the school. "How?" he demanded.

Lance's grin widened just a bit as he pointed to the mascot statue. Keith stilled, and then, maybe purely from all the tension or purely because it was so stupidly obvious, he started laughing.

The mascot was a lion. The symbol of Voltron.

* * *

 **Yeet!**

 **For anyone interested, there will be an exclusive one-shot from this story posted to my Refrigerator (P*treon, lol) tomorrow night. It's the original scene that I wrote for Lance finding out in this story, actually the scene that inspired this whole story to begin with. Quite a lot has changed since I first wrote the scene. It won't be posted anywhere else, so if you want more info PM me here or on tumblr!**


	26. Save Me Now

_**Take Me Now,**_ **by** **Cut One and Wolfgang Black.**

 **It's...been a while lol. Happy NaNoWriMo, y'all. I've been getting back into the ease of writing again for this month, and I'm hoping that means I can finally finish up these stories I've had sitting here for so long. My goal is to get this one finished within 40 chapters or less.**

 **If anyone ends up reading this chapter, thank you. I appreciate the continued support after all this time. It means more than you can know.**

 **I hope this is up to standards lmao**

* * *

 _Altea Highschool. June 9_ _th_ _, 2016. 11:13 am._

The lion sat on it's haunches proudly, head lifted, mane looking almost tosseled in the wind, despite the fact that it was made of stone. At it's feet, a lioness curled around it's body, crouched low on the pedestal with her tail lifted in the air, a warning sign that she was about to strike.

Keith's dog tag lit up again as they got close, the beeping resuming in full, and he and Lance followed it to the back, where a metal panel was set into the stone with the words "Altea High Time Capsule, June 1973" etched on it. The moment Keith held the dog tag up to the metal, the beeping stopped and the Voltron symbol remained lit. "It's in here."

Lance pursed his lips. "It's a good spot. That capsule is staying shut until 2023, 50 years after it was made. We heard about it almost every year in school," he said, rolling his eyes. "No one would try to look at it. Problem is, there's cameras pointed at it. That's why it's never been opened before – whoever did it would be in serious trouble for tampering with school property."

Keith pulled his phone out, the tag swinging from his fingertips as he pulled up Coran's contact and pressed "Call." He dragged it to his ear, eyeing Lance, who was very tactfully pretending not to study Keith.

"Keith, my boy!" Coran greeted, enthusiastic. "What can I help you with?"

Keith licked his lips, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. "Um…so Lance and I are at the highschool…and I need you to hack into their security system and put the cameras on a loop for us."

Coran's voice was a little skeptical when he spoke again. "May I ask why?"

Keith rolled his shoulders, dropping his head. "Uh…he knows. And I…I know you know. About…my involvement with the Galra."

"I see." His voice was darker, now, lower, but still gentle. "Your mother told you, I presume?"

"Yeah," Keith said with a nod, glancing sideways at Lance, who was now actually studying the lion statue, fingers tapping against his arm like he was counting something. "Uh…before…before Thace died – he was a-"

"I know," Coran interrupted. A pause, long, and then a whispered, "I didn't know he had passed."

Keith could swear he heard some kind of choked sentiment there, but he pushed it aside for now. "He did. He gave me a dog tag, one that Alfor had given him. Said that it opened a safe, but he didn't know where. No one did. No one knew about it, aside from him."

"The tag led you there, then," Coran reasoned. He didn't sound surprised by this.

Keith nodded again before remembering that Coran couldn't see him. "Yeah. So we need to open the safe, or at least, the time capsule the safe is hidden in, but the capsule is under surveillance by the school."

"All right. I've logged into the school's system already and…ah, there we are. You're all set. Send me a text when you've closed up the capsule, and I'll set it back into motion so that you two don't mysteriously vanish from the footage. Any particular reason you couldn't call Pidge for this? Surely if Lance understood your involvement with the Galra, the other two would as well."

Keith noticed that he left Allura from the equation. "I…you don't know? About…about her father?"

Lance's shoulders stiffened and Keith shut his eyes to keep from seeing the look on his face. Coran's voice was quiet. "Well, from that, I suppose I can gather why you didn't speak to her. Though I'm sure there's more to the story."

"There is," Keith admitted. "Thanks, Coran."

"Mm. Keith?"

"Yes sir?"

"I don't appreciate the lying. But I understand why you chose to. Please understand that I will still be here as you need. I don't plan to turn on you, or to…to abandon you in any kind of way."

Keith swallowed, the lump in his throat stinging as it made it's presence known, and the sky started blurring in front of him. "Thank you," he managed.

"Of course. Send the text when you're done."

Coran hung up and Keith lowered the phone, turning to Lance. "He said to go ahead," he murmured, shoving his phone away and hanging the dog tag back around his neck.

Lance stared at him for a second, taking in his watering eyes and his face, which Keith was sure was red, but didn't comment. Instead, he turned back to the statue and approached the plaque, pointing at the corners. "It's held in with a couple of bolts. Don't suppose you have a tool kit in your bike? My kit won't work on this."

Keith nodded, already jogging over to the bike. He took the brief respite to compose himself. "Yeah," he said after a moment, digging into the left saddlebag and pulling out a kit from the bottom. "I guess Kolivan put it in when he gave it to Mom. Would come in handy for fixing up the bike, but there should be a wrench in here that'll work."

Lance took the kit silently and settled onto the pavement to work, his legs crossing under him. Keith rubbed the fingers of his right hand together for a moment to quell his anxiety, keeping a watch on the road and on the school doors. They had no idea if anyone was coming to the school or was already there. This was broad daylight, were they nuts? Keith had done a lot of risky shit with the Galra, but this was bold in a stupid way.

"Got it," Lance piped up. "Come grab this."

Keith helped him ease the plate away and Lance arched up on his calves and ankles, still in his cross-legged position, and reached into the mascot statue. He emerged with a shoebox sized metal container, covered in a thick layer of dust and the year the time capsule was created.

"This is fucking heavy," Lance grunted, setting it down on the sidewalk and twisting to face it. Keith squatted next to him as he pulled out his kit from his back pocket and went to work on the lock.

It was done within the minute, and the box opened with a deafening creak that Keith was sure they would have been able to hear inside the school. The first thing they saw was a yearbook, pressed inside of a plastic wrap to protect it from any dust. Lance removed that with careful hands, sliding aside a trophy from a soccer tournament and a couple of preserved class photos.

At the very bottom of the container was a small plastic box about the length of a notecard, the Voltron 'V' scratched on the top in Sharpie. Lance picked it out, returned everything else to it's original position, and then locked the box again, setting it back inside the statue. He left the metal panel alone for the time being, twisting to face Keith as he opened the box.

At the top sat a flash drive. Underneath it, an envelope folded in half that, when unfolded, revealed Allura's name scrolled across the front in faded, delicate handwriting. Underneath that, another envelope with Coran's name. At the bottom were two rings.

"This is it?" Keith asked.

Lance nodded, putting everything but the flashdrive back into the container and handing the flashdrive to Keith. At his look, Lance shrugged. "You said the Blade wanted the flashdrive."

"I..." Keith was taken aback. "No. No, they...Thace worked with Voltron first. So it...it stays with Voltron."

Lance eyed him. "You're going to tell them?"

Keith shifted on the ground. His ankles ached from the concrete. "I...I need to," he whispered. "But I...I don't know what's going to happen. You and Shiro and – and even Coran took it really well. Pidge..."

He trailed off. Keith felt like shit, trying for some kind of sympathy. Pidge's father was dead because of him. He couldn't ask for sympathy for that, he didn't deserve it. He didn't want Lance to say it was okay, because it wasn't, but he just...he needed everything to go back. To what it was, how it was, before all of this sit had gone sideways. Back to when Hunk was just his employee, Lance and Pidge were just regulars at Varkon's.

"Keith?"

He looked up from his inner panic attack to find Lance watching him, eyebrows creased, pulling at the cut along his forehead. Keith's heart slid into his throat at the reminder of it and his breath collapsed in on him. "S-Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," he managed, scrambling back and standing up.

He dug his hands into his hair and pulled, hard, nails digging into his scalp. His feet paced, chest ached, throat stung. He hadn't had a panic attack in over a year, hadn't had one this sudden since he'd first killed a person.

Hands settled on his shoulders first, gentle, one sliding to his cheek, and Lance was invading his space. "Hey," he murmured, voice soft. Keith could see the ache warring in his eyes. "Hey, come on, man. Breathe. In."

Keith forced a shuddering breath in, tears springing to his vision. Lance's other hand moved up, pulling his fingers from his hair and guiding them back down to his side. "Out."

The air shook as it spilled from his lips and he coughed a little, shivering despite the warmth of the day. Lance guided him back, against the statue, to the ground. The cement was cold behind and under him, and it helped ground him a little.

Lance settled between his knees, using his other hand to move Keith's right hand off his head. "In."

He repeated the cycle a few times, until his breathing evened out, his chest stopped aching as much, his fingers weren't as clammy. Lance held his wrist as he breathed, and the contact almost hurt more than the attack itself had been. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, trying to pull his hand away.

Lance held firm, resting his elbows on Keith's bent knees. "No way," he said, soft. "Don't apologize. Not for that. Never for that."

Keith nodded and swallowed. His temples ached. "Why?" he managed. "I…why?"

Lance's thumb traced circles on the inside of his wrist, tickling and light, like how Keith imagined a butterfly might feel. "This…this isn't something you can control," Lance answered. He seemed to understand what Keith was really asking. "I…I don't know you anymore, Keith. But I know you enough to know that you didn't want this. That it's eating you from the inside. I told you I can't forgive you right now. But I can understand, okay? I understand. If it were my mom on the line, or Veronica, or one of my friends, I…"

Lance took a breath and let go of Keith's wrist, sinking back on his heels. His shoulders were level with Keith's knees. "I would have made the same choice. Guaranteed. And I…I can't promise you what Pidge will say. But you said you spoke to Matt?"

Keith nodded, twisting his fingers together and lowering his legs until they were stretched on the pavement, Lance still trapped between them. "Yeah," he croaked. His voice was ragged. "He…he was pissed. But he…he's willing to work with us."

"Lead with that," Lance suggested. His phone rang, and he pulled it out but didn't answer immediately. "If Pidge knows Matt is willing to work with you, it…it might make it easier."

He answered the phone, standing in one easy move and holding a hand out. "Coran," Lance said simply, wiggling his fingers when Keith didn't take his hand instantly. He grabbed it, hesitant, but Lance just dragged him to his feet and squeezed his hand once before letting go. "Yeah. Nope, just have to put the panel back on….really? Okay."

He waved Keith at the metal covering and they moved over, working together to put it back. Lance had his phone clamped between his shoulder and ear. "No, that's fine. Tell her we'll be there in twenty minutes….mmhmm. Not now. Later. Are Shay and Rax-? Okay. Gotcha. See you soon."

Lance hung up and turned to Keith, who had just finished putting away the tools they had used on the panel. "Allura has a mission for us. Apparently. He's turning the cameras back on as soon as we drive away."

"A mission?" Keith asked in surprise. It had been a while.

Lance nodded, his face a bit grim. "Yeah. Bomb threat at the children's hospital. They're evacuating now, but they can't find the actual bomb. Any reason the Galra would be targeting it in particular?"

Keith frowned as they moved back to his bike. "I…not off the top of my head, no. He usually leaves that stuff alone, unless he has an ulterior motive."

"You mentioned something about the mayoral election?" Lance asked as they situated themselves, both a little awkward but nothing terrible.

Keith nodded, waiting to turn on the engine. "Well, yeah, but Zarkon couldn't run. He's technically still a wanted criminal, even if the police are under his thumb. The neighboring counties would never allow it. And targeting the children's hospital wouldn't do anything for him even if he was."

"Alfor was the one who funded the hospital," Lance remembered. "Maybe that's it?"

Keith shook his head. "This late in the game? Doubt it. Come on. Let's see what Allura's having us do."

* * *

 _Castellan Place. June 9_ _th_ _, 2016. 11:58 am._

"Where were you two?" Allura demanded as they ran inside, breathless from sprinting up the trail. They had left Keith's new bike next to Blue before booking it up the hill, and by the time they had gotten into the house, Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge were already dressed in their suits.

Pidge's smirk said everything that she was thinking, and Lance flipped her off before he and Keith ran for the stairs. "We were working on something!" he called back. "Be down in like ten ticks!"

They thundered up the stairs side by side, Lance cutting through Keith's bedroom and the bathroom into his room. "You're not telling them?" Keith called through the open doors as he changed into the kinetic under-suit.

Lance's shirt went flying through his door, making a perfect basket into the laundry hamper under the window in the bathroom. "Not now," he shouted back. "Not really the time for it."

He came back through the room, fastening the collar of his suit as Keith stumbled into his boots. Somehow, Lance was already completely dressed. "Besides," he said, a little softer now. "It's not my place to tell. Hurry up."

"Not everyone can quick change in twenty seconds," Keith muttered, pausing to fix the tongue of his boot.

Lance smirked. "Six years of theater. Meet you downstairs."

He vanished, leaving Keith to strap his knife onto his back again and follow him moments later, shutting his door behind him. Lance was leaning over Pidge when he walked into the living room, watching as she pointed at the screen.

"-and here. Those are the main spots the cops have taped off. They're the most likely for a bomb."

"If it's the Galra, they won't have it in a likely spot," Shiro said, side-eyeing Keith as he walked into the room. "I…I could call Adam, see if-"

"He said he'd help, not that he'd enable us," Lance protested. "He's more likely to tell us off and have us arrested than let us help."

"Speaking of," Hunk spoke up. "Um…Shiro's supposed to be dead? So…even with his new hair and arm and scars, people are definitely going to recognize him."

Allura's lips twisted into a wry smile. "That's why I had Coran and a friend from the Olkari gang – the same one who made your suits - make these for you."

She held out a box, lifting the lid, and Keith blinked. "Are those…masks?"

Allura grinned. "One for each of you, and myself, but I'll be sitting this one out. The…the children's hospital is…a bit too close to home for me."

Her smile faded and Keith knew better than to push. He pulled out the mask that obviously matched his suit, the red one, and studied it. It was lightweight, made of some kind of bulletproof material, and a thick elastic band with an adjustable piece looped it together. Keith slid it over his eyes and shifted it until it settled comfortably over the bridge of his nose.

Everyone else's were the same, save for Pidge's, which had a plexiglass material over the eyes. "For your vision," Allura explained as Pidge situated it. "It also has…computer capabilities. You can use it to visualize blueprints or information in your direct line of sight."

"Ryner, then," Pidge decided.

"Mostly," Allura confirmed. "Now we must go. Come on. Your weapons, everyone?"

Lance had a rifle clipped to his side, Hunk a crossbow on his back, and Pidge a grappling gun. Keith had his knife, but also his sword – Alfor's sword – attached to his thigh, where the frictioned suit held it in place.

Shiro, he noticed as they left, was weaponless. "What about you?" he asked, moving alongside him as the group piled into Allura's van and zoomed down the street.

"I'll manage," Shiro said with a smile. "Hopefully this doesn't turn out to be anything but a quick search and rescue. So to speak."

He glanced at Pidge, who was busy explaining something to Hunk and Lance, and lowered his voice. "You told him?"

Keith winced and lowered his gaze. "Kind of? He figured it out, mostly."

Shiro nodded. "He's smart. Not surprised. What are you going to do?"

Keith's breath hitched. "Um…tell them," he mumbled. "After this."

"-Children's Hospital of Altea. Built in 1993 and majorly funded and refurbished in the mid-2000's by late mayor Alfor Kingsman, the hospital has become a major source of inspiration and medical revolutions for this part of the country," said a voice from Pidge's monitor.

She turned it so that the Shiro and Keith could see the live newscast. The woman on screen was blonde, hair pulled back in a side pony. She kept glancing between the camera and the hospital, her hand pressed firmly to an earpiece as she listened for incoming updates. "I'm…I'm just receiving word from the Bomb Squad that there is not only multiple bombs said to be around the location, but that…"

She frowned, her nose wrinkling. Something twisted in Keith's gut. Something was wrong. Something was going wrong, and he didn't know what. He hated not knowing. Hated being on the inside, but not enough for it to matter.

"It appears there is an active bomber on site, a suicide bomber. Police are working to identify him but it seems he is a part of the notorious gang known as the Galra," she confirmed. She tilted her head again, obviously listening in her earpiece. "Force members have tapped into security feed, and the bomber seems to be making a statement."

The sound became crackly, presumably from poor audio quality of the cameras. "If you shoot me, the other bombs will go off," he said. His voice was nasal, low, meticulous…familiar, and Keith frowned. He didn't know any Galra agent that spoke like that. "There is no fail safe on _this_ bomb."

There. That was deliberate. There was a failsafe on the other bombs.

The car had gone dead silent, and when Keith removed his eyes from the broadcast he found Pidge's hand over her mouth, tears streaming behind her mask. Lance and Hunk were pale. Shiro's knuckles were white on the bench.

"What?" Keith demanded, even as the answer crept into his head. Once. He had spoken to him once. Still, he needed it proven. "What is it?"

"It's Matt," Pidge sobbed, her voice shaking.

Lance and Hunk's hands were tight on her shoulders. Lance looked up at Keith, eyes warring between rage and confusion. "It's Matt," he confirmed, nodding.

"The bomber is my brother," Pidge whimpered.

* * *

 **Also, if you keep up/used to keep up with From the Top...keep your eye out this month :)**


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